Forget Me Not
by vanityfair
Summary: Hermione disappeared for a week, returning disheveled and with no memory of the last seven years. Can Severus help her remember? A tale of love and loss, of mystery and intrigue.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

**Forget Me Not**

**Chapter One**

She was gone. For seven days no one had heard from Hermione Granger-Snape. Albus and Minerva walked through the castle with worried looks on their faces, not wanting to believe that the worst had happened. They sent out owls asking after her, trying to find anyone who had seen her after she left Harry and Ron at the Three Broomsticks. They Flooed her friends and family, always hoping that the next person would be someone who had spoken to her. But no one had heard from her.

Severus believed the worst had happened as well—not that she had been hurt or taken by anyone, but that she had simply left. He never knew what possessed her to marry him in the first place, but every morning he was surprised to see her still sleeping next to him.

Some thought it characteristically cold of him to abandon the search so early; Potter had accused him of not loving her enough to care. But in fact quite the opposite was true. Looking for her might mean finding her and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing her with another man or even alone, but simply having decided it was too much to live with him anymore.

So, instead he continued on as if nothing had happened, the only evidence of his distress was his increased consumption of firewhisky and brandy at night. He sat marking first year exams when McGonagall called to him from the fireplace

"We've found her, Severus," she said. "They're taking her to the hospital wing now."

He didn't respond but threw down his quill and papers and rushed out of the room. 'If they are taking her to the infirmary, then that must mean she has been hurt,' he thought as he strode through the corridors, students quickly moving to the side to make room for him.

Fear rose up in him as he imagined what might have happened to her, but it was quickly replaced with relief. Was it horribly wrong of him to be glad that she had been hurt, that that was the reason why she had been missing for over seven days? The only other explanation was one he had been desperately trying to avoid.

Turning a corner, he met Hagrid and Hermione on their way to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Where have you been?" he hissed, grabbing her by the arms.

"I…was…," she stammered. She looked dazed and her robes were disheveled and dirty, like she had been wearing the same thing for days. He didn't wait for her answer but pulled her close in a crushing hug.

"I found 'er walkin round the lake, Professor Snape," Hagrid explained. "She seemed a bit confused so I thought it best to take 'er to the hospital."

"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll see her the rest of the way." He wrapped one arm around her waist and guided her up the stairs.

"Are you hurt?" he asked as they walked.

"No," she answered hesitantly. "Please, Professor, I think I'll be fine. I just need some rest."

"It won't hurt to let Poppy take a look at you. You look like you could use some Pepperup Potion and a couple days sleep."

He didn't ask again where she had been. She wasn't hurt like he thought, but that didn't matter. She had come back, and there was no need to ask why she had left. If he was lucky, he would send her off to bed with a kiss and a cup of tea, and all would be well in the morning. He would snarl at his students and the rest of the world, and she would smile and tell him he was underappreciated.

Arriving in the infirmary, he stepped back and let Madam Pomfrey work her magic. Albus and Minerva burst in moments later.

"Did she say where she has been?" Minerva asked hurriedly.

"No," he snapped. "And I didn't ask. I was too concerned about her health to overwhelm her with annoying questions."

"Annoying questions? Severus, she's been missing for seven days and you're not the least bit curious about where she's been?"

"I don't care as long as she's back," he growled. He wished Poppy would hurry up so they could return to their rooms. Minerva irritated him, and he hated the sterile antiseptic smell that every hospital wing and infirmary seemed to emit.

A sharp cry rang through the room, and he could hear Hermione growing anxious and upset from behind the curtain that shielded her. He stepped forward to go to her, to comfort her, but Pomfrey came around the divider and pushed him back.

"Perhaps you should talk to her, Headmaster," the mediwitch suggested. Albus slipped behind the curtain and he could hear Hermione calming down.

"I want to see her," Severus demanded.

"That's not a good idea right now."

"What's happened?" Minerva asked.

"It seems Mrs. Snape has lost her memory," Poppy told them with a worried look in her eye.

"What does she remember?" Minerva asked.

"Not much past her sixth year in school. It appears as if someone tried to _Obliviate_ her but somehow botched the job."

"She called me Professor on the way here," Severus said, his stomach sinking.

"She got quite agitated when I tried to explain things to her," Poppy explained.

'So that was what she had been crying about,' he realized. She had just been told that she was the wife of Professor Snape. He didn't know if he should reach for his wand and start hexing everything in sight or if he should return directly to his room and drown himself in a bottle of brandy.

"Is there anything you can do?" Minerva asked. Severus was suddenly glad for her presence where before he had been irritated. She had at least the presence of mind to ask sensible questions. Maybe there was hope.

"Not really."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he practically spat at her.

"Obliviating someone is a tricky business, that's one reason why it's so carefully monitored by the Ministry. There's often no way of reversing the effects without doing serious damage in the process. Sometimes, though, the memories come back on their own, given enough time. We'll just have to wait and see," she explained. Albus returned from behind the curtain.

"I think a strong sleeping potion might be just what she needs right now," the headmaster told the nurse. She nodded and moved to the cabinet to retrieve a bottle of Dreamless Sleep.

"What did she say to you, Albus?" Severus asked brusquely.

"She informed me that you greeted her quite enthusiastically. She seems to think that you have developed an inappropriate attachment to her, though she assures me that you have not acted indecently in any way…yet."

"Inappropriate attachment, I'm her husband!"

"And she believes herself still to be a student. From her perspective you are acting a bit odd."

Severus had thought that the worst that could have happened was that she left him, but with a sinking feeling, he realized that this was much, much worse. His wife hadn't left him; she had been stolen from him.

He might have one day gotten used to the idea that she was gone, leaving him with only bittersweet memories of their time together. He might have rid his rooms of her things, trying to deny she had ever been there. Or perhaps he would have kept them, building a small but still pathetic shrine to what they had once been.

But to have her here, to see her everyday, without her remembering, that could prove crippling. He remembered what his life was like before Hermione, and he didn't like it. He didn't think he could return to a time when she thought of him as nothing more than her greasy, sarcastic Potions master. He had a war to distract him then, but what now?

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"Let her sleep. She is going to need all of her strength to face this. She has ten years of catching up to do starting tomorrow."

Severus had no choice but to leave. Hermione didn't want to see him and Poppy had finally snapped at him, accusing him of getting in her way. He returned to their rooms, despondent and depressed. Pouring himself a glass of firewhisky, he sat on the sofa and stared into the fire. He had passed every night she had been missing in the same fashion, after having discarded the pile of essays to mark. He had been unable to sleep or concentrate on anything knowing that she was out there somewhere, with someone else. Now, he realized that she had been with someone else, someone who had hurt her, had stolen ten years from her, and he had done nothing.

He glanced around the room as the alcohol took its desired effect. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of her and how she had taken over his life. Gone were the green and silver befitting the Head of Slytherin House, replaced instead with soft beiges and creams. It had been their first compromise. Still pictures of her Muggle family and friends littered the mantle, next to pictures of the Weasleys, Order members, and the bane of his existence, Harry Potter. Knickknacks covered every surface, each one a memory, now painful to think about. He stumbled around the room, picking things up at random.

_"You can use it as a paper weight!" she told him enthusiastically. He regarded the conch shell suspiciously. "And if you put it close to your ear you can hear the ocean."_

_"If I had wanted to hear the ocean then I would have gone with you on your little seaside holiday." _

He hadn't gone with her on that trip. He hated the beach; the sand invading every crevice of his body and the insistence of others that he remove his layers of clothing. Potter and Weasley had gone with her and she had returned relaxed and reddened from the sun. She traveled a lot, during her holidays, as well as in her role as an Auror. Sometimes he went with her, but most often, he stayed at Hogwarts, wondering if this time would be the time she didn't come home. But she always had and usually bearing some sort of gaudy gift to let him know that she had been thinking of him.

_"It reminded me of you," she said, presenting him with a round figurine._

_"I remind you of a rotund Russian woman?" he asked sarcastically._

_"No, not that part. This part," she said with a smile, opening the little woman to reveal a replica inside, this one slightly smaller. That one opened as well, another figurine hidden within. "You have so many layers. I had to keep peeling back one after another until I found you!" She punctuated the end of her speech by opening the last figurine, showing him a miniature version of the first._

Sitting back down on the couch, he clutched the doll in his hand. It was much easier getting to the center of this doll than it was getting to him, but somehow Hermione had managed it. He fell asleep hours later, his glass still perched precariously in one hand and the figurine in the other.

After a quick swallow of a hangover potion the next morning, Severus returned to the infirmary, collecting Hermione and escorting her back to their rooms. He tried not to notice her slow and reluctant steps as they neared the dungeons, but when she stopped he lost all patience with her.

"Are you coming or not?" he snapped.

"Professor, I…are you sure there hasn't been some sort of misunderstanding?" she asked. The confident, self-assured woman he had married had been reduced to the hesitant, quivering wreck standing before him. Even as a first year, she hadn't been this frightened of him, of course, she hadn't been faced with the prospect of living with him then either. He glared at her.

"There has been no misunderstanding," he said evenly, trying to check his anger. He wasn't angry at her, but at the situation they had been placed in, and at the person or people who had placed them in it. If it took the rest of his miserable life, he would hunt down the miscreants who had stolen the one thing that had given him joy in his life.

He took her by the arm when he realized she wouldn't move on her own volition.

"I don't bite," he told her as he ushered her through the painting that covered the entrance to their apartments. He took her things and began putting them away while she wandered around the rooms, occasionally picking things up and then putting them down.

"You have a lot of books," she said with admiration in her voice.

"Most of them are yours."

"Oh, of course," she said, placing a volume of Shakespeare back on the shelf. "Then these are really our rooms?"

"Look around, Hermione. Do you really think I would have muggle literature on my shelves, pictures of Potter and Weasley on the mantle, or knickknacks?"

"I guess not," she admitted. She sat down on the couch, looking uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair opposite her, feeling much the same way she looked. What were they supposed to do now?

"How much do you remember?" he asked. It seemed the most logical question even if he was terrified by what she might answer.

"I remember leaving school at the end of sixth year. My parents died in a car crash this summer, and I live with the Weasleys for the moment. I was shopping in Hogsmeade when Draco Malfoy started giving me a hard time and then the next thing I know I'm here and everyone is telling me that I'm married to you."

"And that's so hard for you to believe?" he snapped.

"Honestly, yes," she retorted. The shyness she had in the hallway vanished and her razor sharp tongue returned. Potter and Weasley had admitted once that she had always been like that, though living with him had only honed her ability to come back with a sarcastic remark.

"You're the man who for as long as I can remember hasn't wasted an opportunity to humiliate or degrade me, preferably in front of others, but alone as well. You have never hid your extreme distaste for my origins, my House, or my choice in friends. But suddenly I'm supposed to believe that somehow you got over all that and more to the point fell in love and proposed to me. And that I agreed!"

She said everything he had hoped she wouldn't, bringing up every ugly facet of his past behavior towards her. He had often wondered the same things before.

"If the thought of being my wife is that distasteful to you, perhaps you should just leave," he said standing.

"Where will I go? Back to the Weasley's?" Her voice carried both her anger and her fear.

"I don't care," he said coldly, leaving the room. He locked himself in his office and poured himself a stiff drink. If things continued in this manner he would soon be an alcoholic.

When he ventured out again, she was gone. He hadn't really expected her to stay after their argument, but he had hoped. The same hope, that she would be there the next morning when he went to sleep or that she would come home after she left for a trip, surfaced again. He didn't need others to tell him that he didn't deserve her, he knew that.

He sat staring mindlessly into the fire when he heard a knock on the door. The Headmaster didn't wait for an invitation, but came in. Severus acknowledged him with a glance and motioned for him to sit.

"Hermione is with Minerva, if you care to know," Dumbledore told him.

"Is she?" he said nonchalantly. He said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't gone to the Weasley's. He would have never been able to convince Molly to release her back to him after hearing the horrible way he had treated her. They already considered him a monster for not looking for her when she first disappeared.

"She was quite upset. She told Minerva that you told her to leave."

"I might have said something like that," he admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. Thinking about what he had said to her gave him a headache.

"Severus, she needs you."

"The last person she needs right now is me. I know I'm the last person she wants at the moment."

"Well do you blame her after your behavior this morning?" the older man asked. The accusation in his voice stung.

"That girl is not my wife. She doesn't see me as her husband but as her greasy Potions professor who liked to insult her in class. Everyone said she was throwing her life away on me. Well now she has a chance for a fresh start, and I say let her have it. I won't stand in her way."

"That woman is your wife and she needs you more than ever. You promised to support her 'in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.'"

"She doesn't want me," Severus argued.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "She doesn't remember that she wants you. There is a big difference. You have to help her remember."

"And how do I do that?" he asked skeptically.

"By courting her, wooing her, showing her why she married you in the first place."

"But I don't know why she married me," he protested.

"Then I suggest you prove to her why you married her." Standing up, the old man put his hand on Severus' shoulder. "Marriage is a two-way street, my boy. It's time to give back. I'll send her back down after dinner tonight. I know you will do the right thing." And then he was gone.

Severus stared into the fire, contemplating Albus' words. For seven years, he had leaned on Hermione for love and support. And when she had desperately needed him, he had played the coward, turning his scathing sarcasm on the one person who had seen through it before. The man she loved was buried deep beneath years of mistrust and mistreatment and now he would have to dig him out and prove to her that he was worthy. She had made him believe it once, now it was his turn to convince her.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Thanks to betas AMRA1 and Larilee for looking over this.

**Forget Me Not**

**Chapter Two**

She returned that evening. Severus didn't know what to say. When they had fought in the past, it usually ended with one of them storming out of the room. Later, she would seek him out, climbing into his lap and telling him that she loved him, even when he was unreasonable and horribly mean. Or he would find her, sneaking up and kissing her on the neck, telling her he adored her, even when she was daft and foolish. But there was no warm camaraderie this time, no laughter over the ludicrous things they had shouted at each other, or soft kisses of apology. For the first time ever, he would have to say the words "I'm sorry". She wouldn't know they were what he meant unless he spoke them this time.

"I shouldn't have said some of the things I said this morning," he said after pouring them both a cup of tea.

"Some of the things?" she asked derisively.

"All right, most of them," he said irritated. She seemed determined to make this as hard as possible for him. Not that he blamed her. She stared at him.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, after a few awkward moments.

"I accept your apology. I talked to Professor McGonagall today and I feel a little better about the whole situation."

"What did Minerva tell you?" he asked warily, fervently wishing that she had not talked to the old woman. Salazar only knew what she had told Hermione.

"That you appear harsh, but that you worship the ground that I walk on," she told him. Had she really said that about him? He wondered if his emotions were so transparent; he had thought he was rather guarded, but apparently, even McGonagall could interpret his every mood.

"She said that, did she?"

Hermione nodded, keeping her eyes on the fire. "Is it true?"

"I don't know about the worshipping part, but I do love you, Hermione," he said, moving closer until he sat next to her. She turned and met his gaze.

"I don't say that a lot, not often enough," he admitted.

"But I knew." It was more a statement than a question.

"I think so. I hope so." He reached for her hands, taking them in his. She balked and started to pull away, but he held them tight.

"You love me too," he said. Maybe if he prompted her, she would repeat the words. It wasn't the same; however, it was a start. But she didn't say them.

"Maybe it would help if you told me how we fell in…how we became a 'we'," she stammered instead.

She wouldn't say the word 'love,' he noticed.

"Okay," he agreed, letting go of her hands and settling back into the couch. He didn't know where to begin, with his cruel treatment of her as a student, the summer that Dumbledore had asked him to teach her the Wolfsbane potion, or afterwards, when she had become an Auror and she had started pursuing him. He finally decided on that summer they brewed potions for the Order, when he realized for the first time that Miss Granger had grown from an irritating adolescent into an irritating, but intriguing, adult.

_He heard her breath hitch just slightly when his hand brushed up against hers. _

_Regarding her seriously, he reached out and covered her hand with his. When she didn't pull away, he knew his suspicions were correct. _

"_I hope you haven't developed any silly schoolgirl longings for me, Miss Granger," he snapped. She was inches from him; he could smell her lavender shampoo and he could see the red blush that quickly spread over her cheeks. She trembled slightly from where he had surprised her, but her eyes glittered with anger as she turned to face him._

"_They could hardly be schoolgirl longings since I'm no longer a student, Sir," she retorted. She wrenched her hand from his grasp and turned back to her work. "Although, now I see they might be silly," she said, more to her potion than to him._

_He shouldn't have touched her. He never touched anyone if he could help it, a habit developed over many years. He would be more careful in the future._

"_Such longings are dangerous, Miss Granger," he said a few moments later. "They distract us from our purpose."_

"_Is that so?" she asked. "I always thought that such 'longings', as you call them, help us to accomplish what needs to be done in times like these."_

"_You are mistaken," he snapped._

"_Are you speaking from personal experience, observation, hearsay, or have you read something that leads you to this conclusion?" _

_He glared at her. Ever the irritating know-it-all, she had challenged him her entire seven years in school, and she seemed determined to continue even now. She always insisted on asking questions that he didn't have the answers to and Severus Snape was not a man who liked to admit that he didn't know something. He resented the courage that prompted such questions, resented it because he himself didn't possess it. He had never regretted that until he had met her. It took the prompting of an insolent twenty year old before he even thought to ask such questions, and he still wasn't sure he was ready to face the answers. _

_He hadn't seen her in the months following the war, a welcome, but ultimately too short reprieve. She had eventually shown up with more irritating inquiries, only this time in reference to the case the Ministry was preparing against him._

"_I'm sorry, Sir," she started. "I have to ask these questions." _

"_Don't be absurd, Miss Granger. We both know you and everyone else at the Ministry are itching to know all the sordid details of my life as a spy."_

"_We can do this the easy way or the hard way," she said through gritted teeth._

"_I will not sit back and let you dismantle my life and invade my privacy, simply because you and your former classmates didn't happen to like the way I treated you in class."_

"_This will go easier if you will just tell me what I want to know."_

"_My job has never been to make your life easy, Miss Granger."_

"_I'm trying to make it easier for you, you obstinate ass," she practically shouted. "Do you want a public inquiry? Do you want Rita Skeeter writing daily accounts of your trial as a Death Eater? You have made few friends, Snape, and many more enemies. Someone has anonymously submitted evidence, which proves you were relaying information about the Order and the Ministry to Voldemort. I can't believe that, so I'm here to help you prove your case, but if you can't accept help, then by all means, enjoy your stay at Azkaban." _

_He glared at her, wishing she would leave. He hated to admit that she was right, that he needed her. No one would believe the word of an ex-Death Eater, but if he had the beautiful and famous Hermione Granger arguing for him then his chances of avoiding Azkaban improved._

"_Fine. What do you want to know?"_

He looked over to see her blinking slowly, trying hard to stay awake. He stood and moved down the couch.

"You're tired. You should be in bed," he told her, leaning over and brushing the hair from her face. She shook her head sleepily.

"No, I'm fine. Tell me more."

"Go to bed, Hermione," he said imperiously, straightening up to tower over her. She scowled at him and then looked nervously at her hands. He suddenly realized that either she was too embarrassed to admit that she didn't know where the bedroom was or she was frightened of entering it with him, most likely both.

"I have papers to mark," he said, pointing to the bedroom door. Reluctantly, she moved in the direction he pointed, reassured that she now knew where the bed was and that he would not be assaulting her on her way there.

He crept into the darkened room several hours later, when he knew she would be asleep. Seeing the familiar lump on her side of the bed comforted him, as did the weight of another person. But something wasn't right. It was true what they said; you never truly miss something until it is gone. For years, he had complained about Hermione and her penchant for stealing the covers, as well as her insistence on clinging to him like a leech.

They had a perfectly large bed, with plenty of room for the two of them, but she claimed she was unable to sleep well unless she had an arm or leg wrapped around him. It had taken him ages to get accustomed to sleeping like that, and even years later he still awoke in the middle of the night only to have to disentangle himself from her in order to go back to sleep.

"_But you fit so nicely next to me," she argued with him one night after he had woken her up by pushing her away from him. "There's no one else who fits like you, we're like puzzle pieces."_

"_Have you tried many other pieces?" he asked sharply._

"_No, and that's not the point."_

"_What is exactly?" _

"_I just think that so many people out there are looking for their soul mates, relying on the fuzzy feelings they get, when they could just walk around with a tape measure and see who would fit nicely next to them in bed, someone who will make them feel safe and comfortable."_

"_You're not making any sense. Go back to sleep," he ordered her._

"_Will you at least throw your arm over this way, so I can feel you next to me," she asked, yawning. He frowned, but scooted closer, rubbing his hand up and down her arm until her breathing evened out and he knew she had fallen back asleep._

Only now that he had been granted his wish that she would stay on her side of the bed for just one night he realized how much he had come to rely on her presence to help him relax. He rolled over and looked at her sleeping silhouette. She seemed agitated, tossing and turning. He contemplated moving closer and taking her in his arms, but he was nervous about the prospect of her waking up. He didn't want to frighten her. Only hours later did he finally drift off to sleep, haunted by dreams where men came and stole her away in the night.

He awoke the next morning, tired and anxious, but determined to brew some Dreamless Sleep Potion for the both of them. He couldn't be expected to treat her with consideration, let alone lovingly, if he couldn't get more than three hours of sleep a night.

"We usually eat breakfast in here, together," he told her, seeing her heading for the door.

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. She sat down at the small table in the corner of the room, and waited while he tapped his wand. Toast, jam, fresh fruit, and tea appeared. He held the teapot over her cup, waiting for her answer.

"Yes, please," she murmured before taking an orange and a slice of toast. They ate quietly without speaking; the only sounds, the scrape of knives spreading jam and the soft clinks of teacups on saucers.

"Ummm, what exactly am I to do today?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I don't know," he answered.

"What do I normally do?"

"You're an Auror."

"Oh." Another long pause ensued while he drained his teacup.

"I think, perhaps, you should pay a visit to the Weasleys. Molly can help you catch up on the last ten years and it will be good for your morale. You always come home from the Burrow disgustingly happy."

"Do I visit them often?" she asked.

"Too often in my opinion and too little in yours."

"Oh," she said softly. She stared intently at her orange, searching for words. "What will you do today?"

"I have classes this morning and this afternoon I will go to your office at the Ministry of Magic. Maybe something in one of your case files or your calendar will lead us to who did this to you."

"Do you really think you can find them?"

"I won't rest until I do," he said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I'll see you tonight at dinner," he said a few minutes later after having finished his toast. He stood and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"In the Great Hall?" she asked, looking up at him.

"In the Great Hall, unless Molly insists on you staying there, which she probably will. In that case, I'll see you back here before bed." She smiled at him wanly, and he knew that it took all of her Gryffindor courage to play the part of his wife, even in this small interaction at breakfast. To her sixth year mindset, chatting about their plans for the day over breakfast, and him kissing her goodbye, must seem so strange. But if she could try, then so could he, he reminded himself. He had a lot more at stake.

Hurrying through his classes, he swept down to the front gates after lunch. He Apparated to London and pushed his way through the crowds to the Ministry of Magic's visitor's entrance. He was surprised to find Arthur Weasley waiting for him in the lobby.

"Dumbledore told me you would be stopping by today. I thought I would come down and see if there was anything I could do to help," he offered. Severus nodded. The Headmaster knew he would never ask anyone for help, but as usual, he had made sure that it was available to him.

"I just wanted to poke through her desk and files, and see if there are any leads as to who might have done this to her."

"Right, this way then," Arthur said, nodding and ushering him through to the lifts.

He stood in stony silence as they got on the crowded lift. Shuffling to the back, he tried not to breathe as an older wizard, reeking of garlic, got on.

"That's Richardson," Arthur whispered as the smelly man finally exited onto the third floor. "Just got back from fighting some vampires in Estonia."

"That explains the odor," Severus said, wishing not for the first time that his nose wasn't so large or so adept. At least, they had made the switch from owls to paper airplanes.

"Well, here we are," Arthur said as they finally immerged on the fifth level. "Hermione's desk is right this way. I should know since we have lunch together every Wednesday she's in the office."

"I didn't know that," he said. She had never mentioned her lunches with Mr. Weasley. He wondered why she had never told him; she probably thought he wouldn't have cared to hear about them. The thought suddenly made him sad.

"She's an invaluable resource when it comes to Muggles. Most Muggle-borns either return to the Muggle world or sever ties with it completely. The International Statute of Secrecy makes it hard to do anything else, but do you know Hermione has kept in touch, not just with her family, but several friends from her neighborhood."

"Our apartment this is a suggestion only -- but I would change apartment to quarters or rooms is cluttered with her Muggle artifacts," he complained.

"She promised to explain comptoputers to me next time," Arthur said as he stopped in front of a desk. Severus instantly recognized it as hers, the one picture he had ever allowed her to take, one of him on their wedding day, hung next to maps and bulletins regarding her cases.

"I think that's computer," he said. "Thank you for showing me her desk. If I find anything, I will let you know." It was a dismissal, but a polite one, he hoped.

"I'll leave you to it," Arthur said. "I hope you find something that will lead us to whoever did this to her."

"Me too," he agreed, nodding his head.

"If I ever lost Molly…I don't know what I would do. I don't think I could survive that," Arthur said softly, almost to himself, and then he left. Severus sighed in relief, and started his search. Going through her files, he decided to take all the ones that were currently open, as well as all those where the criminals had since been released from Azkaban. He rifled through the papers on her desk. It appeared as though she had tried hard to stay organized, with little sticky notes and boxes for different things, but documents were strewn every which way. Finally finding her calendar, he flipped to the week she disappeared.

"Don't put off until tomorrow what can be done today!" it shrieked at him. She had bought one of those annoying planners for him last Christmas. He had put up with it for two days, an admirable feat in his opinion, before he had cast a Silencing Charm on it.

There wasn't much there; a note about lunch with Potter and Weasley at The Three Broomsticks and a meeting with her boss about a new case, but that was all. He looked at the week before.

_M spotted in London?_ was written in her loopy scrawl three days before she disappeared. Who was M? He would have to look through her case files and see if any of them started with an M. Or perhaps it was something she was working on the side? She had a penchant for taking on extra work; she hated to be idle. It wasn't much, but it was a starting point.

A/N: The idea that people's soulmates depends on how nicely they fit together, (as in one millimeter off and the relationship will never take,)comes from Nick Hornby's book "How To Be Good." Once you're finished reading this you should run out and read this book, but only after you review, of course.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to my beta Larilee. She's great!

**Chapter Three**

The next few days or so passed in an awkward fashion for the both of them. He tried his hardest, like Albus said, to woo and court her, but no one could ever accuse him of being romantic or knowledgeable about women. He bought her books and left them out for her; he asked Sprout to cut flowers that he placed on her bedside table, but either she didn't notice or she didn't care, because she hadn't said anything except to answer when he spoke directly to her.

"What am I doing wrong?" he complained to Minerva in the staff room before class. He had thought after a week of flowers and books that he would certainly have won her over by now, but she hardly recognized their presence.

"You're leaving them on the bedside table for her to find?" Minerva asked.

"Yes," he grunted.

"You need to give it to her, hand it to her, tell her why you are giving it to her. She's lost her memory, Severus, she doesn't know it's a new book or that flowers on the bedside table are unusual. For all she knows, you have instructed the house-elves to keep fresh flowers in the bedroom."

"She knows I would never do that. She hates it when I ask the house-elves to do anything."

"But that's my point, she doesn't know."

He clenched his fists. Why hadn't he thought of that? It all made sense now.

"Yes, I'll try that. Thank you, Minerva," he said before stalking off to class. He had only glanced at the files that he had brought home with him from the Ministry of Magic. Between teaching and planning ways to woo Hermione, he hadn't yet come across any file that seemed more malicious than the others or involved anyone with a name starting with 'M.' He felt torn between hunting down the person responsible for hurting his wife and winning her back. The more time he spent on one endeavor ultimately detracted from the other, and he didn't have a moment to lose in either case.

Hermione, for the most part, had been spending most of her time during the day with various Weasleys and Potter, and he wondered what they had been telling her about their marriage. Would they try to talk her out of loving him as they had done before? This time, they had the added advantage that she didn't remember ever loving him. It made winning back her affection that much more imperative. He needed a way to keep her from her friends, something to occupy her time other than listening to ways that he was an oversized bat. Perhaps there was a way to solve both of his problems at once…if she were to help him in looking through the files, then maybe he could make some headway in finding whoever had done this to her while spending some quality time with her as well. Working on just such a project had been what had brought them together in the first place.

"_Let's start with what we know," she suggested, sitting in his favorite chair and making herself comfortable. He scowled and sat across from her. This chair was much more uncomfortable, for the express purpose of discouraging any visitors from staying long. With her in the comfortable seat, she might never leave. _

"_Someone has anonymously submitted evidence that shows that you were relaying classified information to You-Know-Who," she rattled on._

"_I know all this, Miss Granger. I received a letter three days ago demanding that I surrender my wand for testing. They claim to have found evidence of an _Envoyas_ charm on the night of March 29th."_

"_An _Envoyas_ charm, where you send short bursts of information to another wand. It works over long distances, and the 'transmission' of information looks like a silver stream, almost like a ghost," she said, staring off into the distance. _

"_Yes, Miss Granger, I know how the charm works," he snapped._

"_Sorry, I was reminding myself. But you say you didn't cast the charm?" she said, turning back to him, not looking very sorry at all._

"_I didn't say that at all, but no, I didn't cast the charm. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, my wand had been damaged several days before in a skirmish between several Death Eaters and some Aurors. Moody thought it would 'help' in my cover if he were to throw a few nasty hexes at me. My arm ended up broken and I had to take my wand to Ollivanders to be repaired."_

"_Did anyone know that your wand had been broken?" she asked, sitting forward in her chair, suddenly excited._

"_I'm sure if you ask Ollivander or some of the Order members. Moody knows, of course, and I think I made enough of fuss at the next meeting about how I expected to be treated when Order members came across me in my role as a spy that most everyone knew."_

"_Then, we'll start there," she declared._

The arrival of his first class, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third years interrupted his reverie, and his face contorted in anger at the interruption.

"Come in, and close your mouths," he ordered. If he wasn't happy then none of his students would be. And so he started his day of teaching witless dunderheads, trying to keep at bay maudlin thoughts of his wife and her lost memories.

* * *

After lunch, he stood in the class later, lecturing on the properties of nightshade to a class of sixth years, when a curly-headed second year girl stuck her head in his door. 

"Professor Snape?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, what is it?" he snarled.

"Madam Pomfrey asked me to tell you that you should come to the infirmary at once."

"Fine," he snapped. He glared at her, and then turned back to his class. "Two rolls of parchment on the uses and properties of nightshade on my desk by Wednesday."

There were only two reasons why Poppy would want him, either she needed potions brewed to restock her supplies—something she wouldn't interrupt a class to tell him about—or there was something wrong with Hermione. He hurried up the stairs from the dungeon. Maybe the school nurse had found a cure to Hermione's condition.

"Oh, Severus, there you are," Poppy said as he entered the hospital wing. Hermione sat on a nearby bed, fingering her robes and gazing at the floor. She didn't look up as he came in.

"What's so important that you felt the need to call me out of class?"

"Professor Flitwick found Hermione wandering the corridors. Apparently, she was having quite an involved conversation with the one-eyed witch statue on the second floor."

"Why would she do that?" he asked.

"The damage is worse than I first thought. When Filius approached her, she couldn't remember her name or how to get back to your rooms."

He clenched his fists at this new complication. He had had hope that he could convince her that he loved her, and that she loved him, but if he had to start from scratch every few days….

"Can anything be done?"

"I gave her a mild memory potion. She remembers everything that she did since we found her, but nothing more," Pomfrey explained. "I'll give you some to take with you in case she needs more of it later on."

"So you expect that this won't be the first time we'll find her talking to inanimate objects and forgetting her name?"

"I can't say for certain. I know how hard this is for you Severus," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "There are people who are specially trained to deal with cases like Hermione's. It might be better for both of you if you were to consider transferring her to St. Mungo's."

"No!" he protested, ripping his arm from her grasp. He had seen the people that lived there, people like Gilderoy Lockhart or the Longbottoms, cases so hopeless that there was nothing to do but to lock them away where they couldn't hurt themselves. Nurses in white robes cooed over them, while their relatives and loved ones only made the obligatory visits at Christmas and on birthdays. He would not condemn Hermione to that existence. He needed her here with him.

"I understand your reticence, but just remember that it is an option," Pomfrey told him. Turning, she motioned to Hermione. "Come along, dear. Severus is here to take you back to your rooms."

Hermione stood slowly and came towards them. "Professor," she said, looking at him shyly.

He nodded, ushering her out of the room.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your class," she said softly on their way back.

"It doesn't matter. I'd rather spend my time with you than with a group of witless dunderheads," he told her. She smiled slightly and looked up at him, but quickly turned away.

"Do you want some tea?" he asked when they finally reached the dungeons.

She nodded. "And maybe you could tell me more about us."

"_Let me do the talking," Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm. Severus looked at it and scowled. He hardly thought she could conduct an interrogation better than he could, but he didn't mind watching her fail before he showed her how things were meant to be done._

"_Fine," he grunted, removing his arm from her grasp roughly._

"_Hello, Mr. Ollivander," she said cheerily as they entered—already a mistake. How did she expect to gather any information if she didn't first demand respect? He, on the other hand, entered in a swish of robes, a surly look firmly fixed on his face. _

"_Ah, Miss Granger, how nice to see you—Vine wood, dragon heart string, 13 inches, not giving you any trouble is it?"_

"_No, it works like a charm," she said, smiling like an idiot at her clever pun. _

_Severus scowled while Ollivander looked confused. "Yes, vine wood tends to be good for charms," Ollivander replied. "What can I do for you today?" _

_She smiled and continued, "I had a question actually. If something were to happen to my wand, could it be repaired?" _

'_What a stupid question,' he thought. 'Why ask it when she already knew the answer?'_

"_Of course, but it would depend on the extent of the damage."_

"_I'm sure you can fix almost anything," she simpered. _

_Severus watched transfixed for the next fifteen minutes as she wheedled information out of the ancient shopkeeper using her feminine wiles. She acted dumber than he knew her to really be, but by the end even he had been charmed. She was dangerous, more so, than even the Dark Lord with his considerable skills as a Legilimens had been. He would need to be careful in his dealings with her._

"_Well, that proved useful, don't you think?" she asked as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron._

"_Did it?"_

"_Certainly! You claim your wand was damaged in the battle the night of March 24th. You took the wand to be repaired at Ollivanders. He just told us that he keeps all the wands to be repaired in a box behind the front desk and everyone knows he runs that store by himself. All it would take would be for someone to nick your wand from behind the desk while Ollivander was puttering around counting stock in the back room, cast the incriminating spells, and then return it before anyone noticed."_

"_That's quite convoluted and circumstantial at best," he argued._

"_Yes, but it casts suspicion on their claims."_

"Well?" she asked when he stopped to take a drink of his tea.

"Well what?"

"What happened? Who stole your wand? How did you convince the Wizengamot that you were innocent?"

He scowled at her many questions.

"You were innocent, weren't you?" she asked, seeing his expression.

"Yes," he hissed. "And you were my biggest defender."

She stared at him seriously. "I always was," she said.

"What?"

"I always was your biggest defender," she repeated.

"Even in school?" he asked

"That's the only time I remember," she reminded him.

He nodded. He had come across her berating her friends after they had joined the Order, admonishing them to show him the proper respect, especially since he performed such a dangerous job. But he had no idea that in her sixth year and possibly before she had done the same thing. It astounded him.

"So?" Hermione asked.

"So what?" he said, feigning ignorance.

"So, what happened?"

"I'm not telling."

"What! Why not?" she sputtered.

He didn't want to tell her everything all at once. What if she heard the story of how they came together, decided it was ridiculous and left him. If he could draw it out, court her, seduce her, perhaps by the end she would realize that it wasn't so unlikely.

"Because we have our own mystery to solve," he said standing. He walked over to his desk, picked up the pile of files, and handed her a stack. "The only lead I, or rather we, have at the moment is a note you scribbled in your calendar. 'M spotted in London.'"

"Who is M?" she asked.

"That's what we need to find out."

"I think that Malfoy is an obvious candidate. He hated me all throughout school," she said bitterly.

That was certainly true, Severus agreed. He hadn't liked the way the boy had insulted Miss Granger but he couldn't deduct points without having to later answer to Lucius as to why he was suddenly defending Mudbloods.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead. He died in the final fight. Draco, if I remember correctly, was listed as MIA. Your friend Potter"— he sneered at the name—"handled the case. We should talk to him."

"I can ask him about it this weekend. Maybe I was helping him on the case."

"I have no doubt. Potter can't do anything for himself. He only survived school because he had you next to him." He smirked as he watched the conflict of emotions play out on her face, torn between defending her friend and astonishment at his compliment of her. He didn't allow her to say anything though but continued on, "I'd like to be there as well. It will help to have someone who remembers what happened."

She nodded in agreement, but she bit her lip in consternation. He knew that her continued memory loss made her feel helpless.

"Until then we can take a look through these files."

She nodded and started in on a complicated sorting system, one pile for those still in Azkaban and thus proved useless, a pile for those who had since gotten out, another for impending cases, and then they could cross reference them with names starting with M, first and last name. He smiled slightly when she turned away; she sounded just like Hermione, past or present. Some things never changed. Hours later files lay strewn about the room while Hermione yawned like a lioness.

"You should go to bed," he told her.

"Are you always this bossy?" she asked indignantly even as she stood up.

"I'll never surpass you, if that's what you're asking."

She harrumphed.

"I'll make sure the house-elves don't disturb any of this," he said more seriously.

She frowned. "They are still enslaved aren't they?" she asked sadly.

He nodded. It bothered his Hermione as well, even if she had given up her more revolutionary demands. Recently, she had been campaigning to have owners submit to a review to make sure no abuse was taking place. It hadn't gotten very far except for a few nasty editorials in the _Daily Prophet_.

"Will I ever make a difference?"

"Is that so important to you?" he asked.

"Yes! When I was still in school I wanted to change the world. I wanted to change people's minds about Muggle-borns, I wanted to free the house-elves, and I wanted…I don't know, I just wanted to make a difference.

"You helped defeat the Dark Lord, you still campaign for elf rights, and you are the kindest, most generous person I know. What do you want, a medal that reads _Hermione Snape, lifelong do-gooder?_" He didn't know why he resorted to sarcasm, force of habit, he supposed. But this new Hermione was more sensitive than before. She wouldn't laugh and tell him to stop being a prat.

"No! You wouldn't understand," she protested, shaking her head. "Goodnight."

She headed for the bedroom while he poured himself a sorely needed drink. She had made a difference, maybe not in the lives of house-elves, but she had certainly affected him. Without her, he might be sitting in Azkaban, wrongly accused of betraying the Order of the Phoenix. Without her, he would be alone, the same bitter man he had been before the war. Sitting with his glass in his hand, he stared into the fire and wondered if she had meant to fall in love with him or if had been purely by accident. Had she taken on his case in pity? It hardly mattered now, but he remembered a time when it had bothered him greatly to think that he was just another one of Hermione Granger's charity cases.

"_Am I just another one your projects, like S.P.E.W.?" he asked, derision dripping from his voice. She smiled up at him, despite his tone. Was there nothing that would persuade the girl to leave him alone?_

"_Do you mean do I have an acronym?" she asked innocently, but with a mischievous smile. "Maybe something like S.O.P.S.—Save Old Professor Snape?"_

"_I am not old," he hissed at her._

"_And who says I'm doing this entirely for your benefit? Maybe I've got others in mind. I was thinking S.A.D.N.E.S.S. might be appropriate…Save Azkaban Dementors Needlessly Enduring Severus Snape."_

_He had been so angry with her that he had refused to speak to her for the rest of the day. She had left finally, after hours of going over the evidence they had again._

"_I'm not apologizing for helping you, Snape," she said before she left. And then before he could stop her, before he knew what was happening, she leaned down where he sat sulking and pecked him on the cheek. He watched in wonder as she took the Floo from his rooms at Hogwarts, lifting a hand to where her lips had pressed against his skin. _

He lifted a hand to his face at the memory of that first kiss and stared at the door that led to the bedroom where his wife lay sleeping. He wondered how long it would be before she would resume such small gestures. Maybe he should initiate it now. Would she turn away from him or would she be shocked and amazed that he would want to touch her in such a way, much the same way he had been when she had kissed him?

He finished his drink, and then inspiration hit. He would do just as Minerva had suggested. He would tell her how he felt. Searching their living room, he took a candlestick holder and transfigured it into a small necklace. He wrote a short note, and left it where Hermione would find it after he had left. Professor McGonagall had told him to hand it to her, but he didn't feel quite ready to do that yet. But with the note, there would be no misunderstanding.

After scribbling another note to the house elves, he went into the bedroom. Very quietly, he changed out of his robes and climbed into bed, trying hard not to disturb Hermione. He lay down, but then changed his mind. Propping himself up on his elbow, he peered down at her. Her mouth hung open slightly and her hair surrounded her. He brushed a lock away from her face and very slowly and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Goodnight," he whispered before settling next to her, closer than he had since she had come back to him. She murmured in answer and rolled in his direction. Severus fell asleep, the first time in years happy to feel her right next to him.

* * *

A/N: Some of you have asked if we will see Hermione's POV. The answer is no. I know that makes it seem claustrophobic but I actually think that adds to the mood. Snape is a solitary man, and I hope to create a sense of that isolation by limiting the POV to only him. Also, changing the POV or writing in omniscient 3rd person is very tough. It works in my humor pieces but I haven't been able to get it to work in my more serious stories, (eg. An Arranged Marriage is completely from Hermione's POV.) Because I'm trying to balance angst, romance, mystery, (a genre that is completely new to me,) as well as the past and present, I decided that messing too much with POV would just throw me off track. So there you have it. I hope you are enjoying it. If you are, and even if you aren't, please leave a review. I really need the feedback on this one. Your questions, observations, and insights really shape the story and make me rethink plot points and characterizations. So, if you reached the end of these long notes, I congratulate you.

--Vanityfair


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to AMRA1 and Larilee for their proofreading and continued support.

**Chapter Four**

Severus woke early the next morning, leaving before Hermione came out of the bathroom. He had placed her gift where she would find it easily, but he didn't yet have the courage to face her when she discovered it. What if she rejected him? It was a thought he couldn't stand; and so, he pushed it away, trying to distract himself, with upcoming Potions exams.

But, for most of the day, he found himself distracted. Had she found his offering yet? What did she think? Would she like it? It was no small wonder that he had never really dated in his life. It left a person much too vulnerable and open to rejection. He wondered, if this was how Hermione had felt, when she had pursued him. But, she had always seemed so confident.

"_I always knew it, you know," she told him, one night in bed, curled up next to him._

"_Knew what?"_

"_That we would be together."_

"_Always?" he asked, skeptically._

"_Always," she repeated, an impish grin on her face._

"_From the moment you saw me, as an eleven year old child, you said to yourself, 'That is the man I'm going to marry.'?"_

"_No!" she cried, grabbing a nearby pillow and hitting him with it. He growled and pulled her closer. Tickling her in the ribs, he ignored her squeals for mercy. _

"_Then, it wasn't always," he argued when she finally stilled, her breathing ragged._

"_But I knew."_

"_And, here I thought you held a contemptuous disdain for Divination," he teased. But secretly, he was amazed at her diligence. She had known. She had planned. And, she had succeeded, despite his best efforts to dissuade her._

Anxiously, he entered their rooms, after dinner. She hadn't been in the Great Hall; and, he hoped that she had skipped eating because she had been working hard, reading through the files; not wandering the castle, having forgotten her name. To his great relief, he found her sitting in front of the fireplace, with an open file and a half-eaten sandwich, on a plate, sitting on the table next to her.

"Interesting reading?" he asked.

"Quite," she said, without looking up. He frowned. She clearly didn't want to be bothered. He grabbed another file from the pile; throwing himself into the chair opposite her. But he couldn't concentrate. Either, she hadn't found his gift or she had, and didn't like it. There could be no other explanation for her ignoring him like this. Throwing the file to the side, he decided he needed a drink, somewhere away from her. Just as he moved to get up, she put aside her reading.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I was near the end and wanted to finish." He eased himself back into the chair, nodding at her.

"Did you find anything useful?" he asked.

"Not yet, but it's been slow going. Instead of just skimming them, I end up reading the whole case file. They're fascinating."

He smirked at her.

"This one involved a very complicated poisoning. The man was slowly killing everyone around him. He probably wouldn't have even been caught, except that his boss, wife, and brother all became ill around the same time," she explained, motioning to the file she had just laid down.

"I remember that case." She looked at him, puzzled. "I'm the one who helped you figure out what poison he was using."

"I suppose I talk about my cases a lot."

'_Ad nauseum sometimes,'_ he thought, but he didn't say it. In the past, he had snapped at her to talk of something else. Now he thought he might miss the nights by the fire, listening to her discuss a particularly complicated case. She was always very grateful when he could help; and it was the least he could do, after she listened to him moan about his students and their exploding cauldrons.

"You did love your work," he said instead. She nodded, looking meaningfully into the fire.

"I did find something else though," she said shyly, turning back to him.

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said, pulling out the medallion, from under her robes. In the glow of the firelight, he could read the inscription he had charmed that morning—'Hermione Snape, lifelong do-gooder'. He noticed the note, lying on the table, next to her sandwich. He had written it in red ink, unable to find anything other than his correcting quill that morning. Had she taken offense to seeing his red spiky scrawl, remembering only the insidious insults that had riddled her Potions essays? He had kept the note short and to the point, _You make a difference in me. Love, Severus._

"Is it true? Have I really made a difference in your life?" she asked.

"Yes, Hermione," he breathed. How to tell her, that without her there would be no purpose to living; that in fact, without her, he would have no life to speak of? The words were on the edge of his breath when she spoke again.

"It's so odd to see my name like this," she said, fingering the necklace, turning it over and over again in her hand. "I always thought I would keep my name when I got married."

"You did keep your name," he told her, with a smirk. "It's an ongoing joke." She looked at him puzzled, so he explained. "We had a rather large row, when we first married, about you taking my name and, in the end, I could do nothing but give in. However, even though you insist on remaining Hermione Granger, or Hermione Granger-Snape when you are feeling particularly obnoxious, I routinely give you things with either, your name or initials, but as Hermione Snape. Usually, you charm them to read the name you prefer, but the challenge is to find something that is hard to change and preferably something that will be seen or worn in public."

"You want your 'mark' on me? You want others to know, I belong to you?" she asked indignantly.

"You do belong to me," he said. Seeing her face turn an angry shade of red, he quickly continued, "And I belong to you. That's how a marriage works. Besides, I told you, it's a joke."

"It sounds like you do it to irritate me," she said.

"That's just an added bonus." She harrumphed, turning back to the pile of files. "You do things to annoy me, as well." She looked up sharply, her mouth pressed into a thin line. He could tell instantly that she was angry.

"Then why did you marry me?" He kicked himself mentally, for pursuing this line of conversation. Of course, she knew that he thought she was irritating. Hadn't he told her so, every chance he got while she was in school? And, that was the only time she remembered. He would have to tread very carefully, choose his words with care. "Because, I find many of your annoying habits endearing, as well."

She looked at him, surprised. "Such as?"

"You insist on clinging to me when you sleep, despite the fact that I have told you, over and over, that I find it suffocating."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem any longer. We can sleep in separate beds, if you'd like." She sounded much too eager at that prospect. He needed to put his foot down.

"No, you will sleep next to me, like you have for the last seven years," he told her.

"But you just said…" she argued.

"That I find it endearing. I couldn't sleep while you were gone; and, now that you're back…I find myself…missing…your close proximity."

She nodded slightly, paused, and then asked another question. "What else do I do?"

"Your incessant chatter drives me batty at times." She opened her mouth to protest, her eyes flashing again. "But, I much prefer it to the stony silence that filled my nights before."

"Oh."

"Hermione,"—She started at the sound of her given name, used to nothing but sneering Miss Grangers from him; he made a mental note to use her name more often—"I understand that this is difficult for you. You remember nothing but a cold, embittered, sarcastic man, who insulted you every chance he got. I am still not a kind man. I will never be jovial, happy, or even pleasant. But, I have little in life that has ever given me pleasure; and, when I find something that does, I cling to it for dear life."

He had his potions, he had had taunting Potter, while Harry was a student, taunting Black, before he got himself killed, and then he had Hermione. It wasn't much and until Hermione had come along, nothing had filled the gaping hole in his heart.

"_I'm trying_," she whispered, sounding desperate.

He wanted to argue with her. No, she wasn't, not hard enough anyway. She didn't talk anymore. She did all her talking to Molly Weasley and Professor McGonagall. She didn't laugh and tease him, didn't pepper him with questions about his day or his Potions research. And she no longer touched him. He had never been a very tactile person, hiding beneath his layers of robes, but she always sat next to him on the couch, the whole one side of her body grazing his. She often pecked him on the cheek, as she passed; and he thoroughly enjoyed the times she lay in wait, pouncing on him as he came out of the shower or back from class. But he didn't argue. He just nodded his head.

"I know. So am I," he said. "I can answer any other questions that you may have."

"You _want_ me to ask questions?" she asked incredulously. He chuckled softly, which seemed to surprise her even more.

"Further proof that I am completely besotted with you," he said wryly. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. I—I can't think of anything at the moment."

"If I had known this is all it would take, I would have offered much sooner," he teased. She blushed, looking away, but he noticed that she still fingered the necklace.

"You could finish the story you started yesterday." He nodded and began where he had left off.

"_I talked to Professor Moody," Hermione announced, immediately after coming through his fireplace._

"_No hello?" he snapped, angry at having his quiet evening interrupted by her once again. He had hoped to spend the night in his chair by the fire, reading his new book. _

"_Hello, Professor. How are you this evening? Did you have a nice day?"_

"_My evening would be better without your irksome presence; and my day was miserable, as I once again tried, unsuccessfully, to impart important knowledge into the ever-growing vacuous spaces of my students' minds."_

"_So, pretty much a normal day, in the life of Severus Snape."_

"_Indeed. What do you want, Miss Granger?"_

"_I talked to Professor Moody."_

"_He never taught here; he doesn't deserve that title."_

"_Of course," she said irritably, throwing herself into the chair opposite him. "Do you intend on letting me tell you what he had to say or would you rather continue berating me on every little thing?"_

_He didn't answer, but went back to his book._

"_One might think that you would rather go to Azkaban, than let me help you," she said angrily._

"_They wouldn't be far from the truth," he responded snidely. But, when she stood up to leave, he knew he had gone too far. He didn't like her helping him. Not because he didn't like her, but because he didn't like anyone's help. The fact that he was slowly coming to find her…intriguing, that was the best word…did not help his attitude towards the whole damned situation._

"_Sit down," he ordered. "What did he have to say?" _

"_He said that you weren't the only one that received a serious injury that night."_

"_He's referring to the Entrail-Expelling Curse that I managed to throw at him."_

"_You did what?" she exclaimed in horror. _

"_Gaping has never become you, Miss Granger. It hardly mattered, since my wand had been broken. His insides poked out a bit from his stomach, but it was nothing they couldn't handle at St. Mungo's."_

"_I see," she said, nodding, but looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I also talked to Remus and to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They all remember you being without your wand that week."_

"_Fine. Where does that leave us?"_

"_I think we have enough to prove to the Wizengamot that you aren't guilty. But, I wish we could find who did this to you, in the first place. Who would want to see you in Azkaban?"_

"_You said it yourself. I have made few friends and many enemies. The list is quite long, especially if we add disgruntled students to the mix," he said, frowning._

"_I'm not giving up on this," she declared. His chest tightened when he saw that she was serious. He didn't know if he was afraid that she would continue to pursue the matter, further invading his solitude, or afraid that she might not._

He stopped there for the moment. Standing, he crossed over to her.

"I have papers to mark. You should keep looking through those. Or, if you need a break, there is the latest edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. I picked it up the other day, thinking it might help you catch up. That, and I know it's your favorite." She looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you…for the necklace and the book."

"You're welcome," he said, before he left for his office. It had worked, just like Minerva had said. Flushed with success, he marked his third year exams with a never before seen enthusiasm and magnanimity—he only mildly insulted their dimwitted capabilities, refraining from questioning their heritage or comparing them to house-elves.

Hermione was already in bed and asleep, when he finally finished his grading. But, like the night before, he kissed her gently on the forehead before settling in, a smile playing on his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke early the next morning, with a feeling of contentment. Hermione lay on her back, while he lay on his side next to her. Her hair engulfed his face, teasing his nostrils with its lavender scent, and sometime during the night, he must have pulled her closer, his arm still thrown over her. In fact, his hand had somehow ended up beneath her camisole and had worked its way north.

"Oh!" she said, with a surprised squeak. While he had been drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, stroking her satin skin, she had awoken abruptly, to find herself being fondled. Her cry woke Severus up fully and he pulled his hand away.

"Sorry," he said, moving away from her. "I forgot."

"That makes two of us," she said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She looked lovely, with rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, while she attempted to pull her nightshirt back down where it belonged. She retreated to the relative safety of the bathroom. He got out of bed, shaking off the last remnants of sleep before getting dressed. The dull ache that he had become used to sharpened, as he recalled her stricken face at finding him touching her. Was it so unbelievable that he would want to touch her, to make love to her? Probably not. But to her mind, what was truly baffling was that, at one time, _she _had wanted him to. Slowly, he got dressed and went out into the living room to eat breakfast. Hermione never joined him.

She stayed so long in the bathroom that Severus had to eat without her. He left for class angry with himself for losing control. He had meant to seduce her, to convince her that he was worthy, but he had ruined it. Would she ever trust him again? She apparently couldn't stand the thought of seeing him this morning. Last night, he felt that he had finally made some headway. They had discussed their relationship, both past and present. He had managed to tell her how he felt, in a manner of speaking. And then, he had fondled her this morning. Never mind that it happened in a hazy, half-asleep state; it had still been a breech of her newly constructed barriers. Wondering what he was to do, he stormed into the staff room.

"I need your help," he growled, in a low voice to McGonagall. She motioned for him to sit down, and Severus was happy to note that Sinistra and Flitwick got up, leaving the two some privacy.

"What's wrong?" Minerva asked.

"I did what you said. I gave her a gift and told her how I felt, but…"

"But?"

"But, I think I pushed her too far, too fast. She wouldn't talk to me this morning." He tried to be as vague as possible, not relishing the idea of providing gossip for the rest of the staff.

"Then tell her that. Apologize for moving too quickly and ask her what she wants to do."

"But, what if she wants to leave?" he protested. After her reaction this morning, he felt certain this would be a likely possibility.

"Then, convince her to stay. You always did have a nice turn of words," she said, standing. "I have an early NEWT class this morning. Good luck." And then, she was gone. Severus glanced at the clock. He had his own class to get to.

He taught his class in his usual manner, but for all the thought that he put into it, he was lucky that he knew the lessons by heart after so many years. Instead, he worried about Hermione and what he would say to her that night. Would she even still be there when he returned?. In their past, she had felt the same sting of rejection from him. Although, when he pondered it, he decided what he was feeling was definitely worse as she had never known his affections before. When he rebuffed her, it had been a natural and predictable response. There had been the sneering and insults of her school days, the barbs questioning her intelligence as they brewed potions for the Order, and the not-so-subtle hints to leave him alone as she worked on proving him innocent.

_They were poring over law books, Muggle and Magic alike, when she did it. Her head bowed over the pages, she didn't even look up as her hand shot out and grabbed his forearm. He inhaled sharply_ _as her hand rested right over his Mark. _

"_What are you doing, Miss Granger," he demanded, glaring at the offending hand._

"_I think I might have found something!" she exclaimed, giving his arm a squeeze_ _before finally letting go. She looked up to meet his glare, "Don't look at me like that. I think it's really something this time." He ignored the fact that she had completely misinterpreted his meaning._

"_It hasn't been anything_ _other than rubbish, the last three times; so_ _forgive me if I withhold judgment."_

"_Withhold judgment," she snorted. "When have you ever done anything of the sort?"_

_Except, of course, that his not-so-subtle hints had been for naught. She either, could not take a hint or she willingly ignored them. He remembered becoming increasingly comfortable and uncomfortable in her presence. He couldn't wake up or go to bed, without thinking of Hermione Granger. And, for every time that he ejected her from his quarters, she reappeared the next day, just as eager as the day before._

"_Miss Granger, go home!" he demanded. He had left her, thinking they were through for the night, only to come back from his office, where he was grading papers, to find her dozing over her law books._

"_J-just five more minutes."_

"_No! I may accept that I require your help in this matter; but, I refuse to accept you as my bloody roommate. Go home!"_

"_Fine," she snapped, as she came fully awake. "I'll see you tomorrow." She said it every night and it worried him every time._

"_And, eat something before you come back. I'm tired of listening to McGonagall comparing me to a slave driver." She nodded and left, but he thought for certain, that he heard her mumbling something under her breath that sounded like, "You are a slave driver." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, before dragging himself to bed._

She had persevered and had finally won him over. It may not be easy, but nevertheless, he was committed to this relationship. He would not, could not, lose her.

* * *

A/N: So this story, like so many other stories is AU, although if we're honest with ourselves HG/SS has always been AU. I actually like the canon 'ships the way they turned out, but I will not be jumpingthis ship just becauseof HBP. No worries, I won't be abandoning this story. I have too much invested in it to do that. Cupid's Arrow will befinished eventually as well. I hope you keep reading and please leave a review. I need the pick me up.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to beta Larilee. She's wonderful.

**Chapter Five**

Severus plotted and planned his strategy all day, but for all the little speeches he composed in his head to convince her to stay and give him one more chance, she proved them needless.

"I think I may have something," Hermione said as he came in the door. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. All atwitter, she showed him the file in her hand. "According to this, the Wizengamot didn't sentence Mulciber to the Dementor's Kiss or to a life-long sentence in Azkaban. Instead, he received a paltry five-year conviction, and then was banished from wizarding society."

"So, he's out there free…"

"Living as a Muggle," she finished for him. He hated when she did that, but he was too excited at her discovery to notice much.

"But that means he wouldn't have a wand. He doesn't have the means to have kidnapped you and then Obliviate you."

"He might have had help, or maybe he made a new wand. It would explain why such a large chunk of my memory is missing and why I keep forgetting new things. If he made a wand with the materials he had on hand and could find through the black market, it wouldn't have functioned as well as an Ollivander wand. And all he would have needed was brute strength to kidnap me."

"I don't know," Severus said, leading her to the couch and sitting down. "You're remembering what you were like in school. But you aren't that girl anymore. You are a feisty, loud, strong woman who is hardly going to be manhandled in the middle of the street. Someone would have noticed."

"I'll have you know that I wasn't a shrinking violet in school either, just ask Draco Malfoy." He smirked at her. "But you have a point. You say the last place I was seen was in Hogsmeade."

"Yes, you were looking in the window of the bookshop."

"Then maybe it happened later. I could have Apparated to London, and then met him. Or maybe he lured me away rather than forcing me."

"With what?"

"Well, he was known for his use with the Imperius Curse," she argued.

"Yes, but without a proper wand that would be almost impossible."

"Almost impossible is still possible," she said to him.

He stared at her. How many times had she sat on this couch, in this exact position and told him that? She often discussed her cases with him. She would weave highly improbable tales and he would play devil's advocate, until one of them came up with a viable solution. It was a strategy that without realizing it, they had recreated. It proved to him once again that they were meant to be together.

"It's worth investigating further, isn't it?" he heard her ask. He nodded.

"I'll need your help tracing him in the Muggle world," he said. It was just as well that Mulciber lived as a Muggle, it gave Severus the opportunity to demonstrate his trust in Hermione.

She nodded her agreement, a large grin plastered on her face. It was the first real smile he had seen from her since she had come back to him. He realized that it stemmed from her need of approval from him as a sixth year Potions student, but after this morning, he was hardly in the position to be picky about her reasons for beaming at him. He was just happy to see that all that had been forgotten in her excitement over this first small breakthrough in the case.

"But first we need to interview Potter," he continued with a grimace. He was not looking forward to this.

"I sent him an owl this morning. We're supposed to meet him tomorrow for dinner in the Leaky Cauldron." He nodded, wondering if she would bring up the incident of that morning. He certainly wasn't going to tempt fate by asking her feelings about it. Hoping he could distract her from bringing it up, he summoned the Parcheesi board.

"Excellent work. You deserve a break," he said, motioning to the game now in his hand.

"Parcheesi?" She looked at him skeptically, but pulled one of the armchairs closer to the table he conjured. "I would have thought you preferred something more intellectual like chess."

"I do seem the sort, don't I?" he said as he laid out the board and handed her the yellow pieces. He took the blue ones for himself. "Actually, you prefer this game. You say it's less violent than Wizard's Chess or Exploding Snap. I actually prefer card games such as Crazy Eights or Old Maid." He enjoyed the look of surprise on her face. If there was any sort of silver lining in this whole damned situation it was that he could tease her like he had when they had first married.

"You're joking!" she exclaimed.

"Why yes, I believe I am. Go Fish is actually my favorite."

She actually smiled at that, a real smile meant for him and him alone. This wasn't because she had found new evidence of who had done this to her, or because she learned that the many books in their rooms were hers to read whenever she wanted.

"Then by all means, we should play that next," she said, her smile turning mischievous.

He raised his eyebrow while passing up one of her pieces. They spent the next hour chatting. He talked about his students and their propensity to blow things up while she reminisced fondly about partnering with Neville.

"He's not that bad in Potions," she told him. "Just terribly frightened of you."

He wondered if he should tell her the truth about Neville, how he had died fighting.

She noticed his darker look and asked, "What is it?" The evening had been progressing so well, he didn't want to ruin it now by reliving the last dark days of Voldemort.

"Nothing…I believe you might just win." Her face changed instantly from worried to triumphant as she rolled the dice and moved her last piece home. "You must have cheated somehow, a charm on the dice perhaps?"

Picking them up, he inspected them closely, waving his wand with a detection spell.

She huffed in indignation, "I would never cheat!" He looked up at her, smirking. It took several long moments but it finally dawned on her that he had been teasing her again.

"Maybe you never did in school, but seven years living with me, and my devious ways have corrupted you," he said, putting the game away and making the table disappear. She frowned at that statement, leaning back in her chair.

"Am I really that different?" She didn't seem to realize that this was his idea of humor.

"Yes and no," he said more serious now, wary of this conversation. He searched in vain for a way to avoid it. It seemed that was all he had been doing tonight, first with the discussion of the morning's incidents, then Neville's death, and now this. Changes were made gradually. People slowly grew into themselves. Maturity didn't happen overnight, but somehow he was supposed to tell her everything in the next ten minutes?

"Not in the essentials," he said vaguely, moving towards the bedroom. "I'm going to bed. Will you join me?" She shook her head no, taking up her _Hogwarts, A History._

"I think I'll read a bit more tonight," she said, and he realized with dismay that she was still nervous about entering the bedroom with him. After this morning, he hardly blamed her. Climbing into bed, he lay there staring at the ceiling until he felt her crawl in beside him. Only then was he able to fall asleep.

* * *

The next evening they traveled to see Potter. The meeting went better than Severus had hoped, meaning that he managed not to kill the irritating savior of the Wizarding World, but other than that, the Auror had very little information to offer them.

"Draco disappeared after that final battle," Harry said. "We haven't been able to track him since, although I think his mother has been sending him money. We can't prove anything, but large amounts of money are sent abroad on a regular basis."

"Can't you just track where she sends it?" Snape asked. Harry glared at him.

"We've tried that. It goes to an orphanage for witches and wizards. After that, we seem to lose track of it."

"Maybe she really is just donating her money to orphans. She does know what it feels like to lose her entire family," Snape said, sneering.

"I doubt that," Harry replied, his green eyes flashing. Severus knew he had hit a soft spot. Potter would never admit that he had anything in common with a Malfoy. "I would bet my broom that Malfoy is still out there. It makes perfect sense that he was the one that did this to you, Hermione."

"Have there been any leads in the case recently? Had you discussed it with me?" Hermione asked.

"I mention it every once in awhile, but not recently…although you did tell me that you needed to speak to me about something that day in the Three Broomsticks."

"Did I say what about?" Hermione asked, becoming animated. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

"No, just that. You had to check on a couple of things first. But you seemed a little preoccupied, almost agitated."

"And you didn't think that this was important to mention earlier?" Snape asked sharply.

"I mentioned it to Albus, but you wouldn't know about that would you, Snape?" the younger man snapped back. Hermione looked from one to other and back again, obviously confused.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Nothing," Snape said quickly, staring at Potter ruthlessly. He couldn't have Hermione knowing that he had never looked for her, not when things were progressing so well between them. The boy stared back, but finally relented.

"It's not important," he bit out. "What's important is finding out what happened to you. And I think finding Malfoy is the key to that. Here's the file if you want to look it over." He handed Hermione a thin manila file.

"It doesn't look like you have much," Snape observed.

"All we know is that he fought in the last battle. Ron remembers throwing several Slicing Hexes at him, but he was never seen again after that."

"What happened exactly, at that last battle?" Hermione asked. "No one will tell me."

Potter looked nervous. Severus glanced around the room, avoiding her eyes as she appealed to both of them. He knew that she would have to be told at some point, but he had hoped it would be later rather than sooner. He had hoped, probably in vain, that he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her.

"It was a long time ago, Hermione." Potter stalled.

"There was an account in the book I bought you this week," Snape said, hoping that her propensity towards reading would spare him this pain.

"That's an academic's account of what happened, just the bare facts. I want to know the details. How will I ever remember if no one tells me? What if I never get my memories back? That's a large part of who I am. It shaped me into the person I am today, or was. I can't be expected to just 'recover.' I need your help. I need everyone's help," she said, her voice becoming shriller and shriller.

She was right; she did need to know. But it had been hard to deal with at the time. It would be hard to see her relive it again. Snape leaned closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him in surprise. Potter looked at her uneasily and then over at Snape. He nodded at the younger man.

Looking back at his friend, Harry relented, "It was the end of our seventh year…"

_It was dark. Severus was having a hard time distinguishing Order members and Aurors from fellow Death Eaters. Flashes of red and green crisscrossed the narrow street, while flames leapt from the building to building. The fire would keep away the Inferi, but it would destroy the village at the same time._

_He watched as Neville Longbottom charged Bellatrix Lestrange, attacking her from behind. He never had been good with a wand, but he appeared to be faring well with his fists. He pried her wand away from her before she could cast a spell, and Ginny Weasley had taken the opportunity to Stupefy her. She reached out her hand to help him up. The poor boy never saw the flash of green light that hit him in the back._

_Severus' quickly sent a hex in the direction of the Death Eater who had felled Mr. Longbottom. It knocked him to the ground before he could hurt Miss Weasley._

"_Tie him up quickly, Miss Weasley," he instructed her, his wand still at the ready in case anyone else lurked in the shadows. He needed to get her back to Hogwarts and safety. She was much too young to be out here fighting like this. _

"_This way," he said, taking her arm when she had finished._

"_Where are we going? What about Neville?"_

"_We'll see to him later. For now we need to get out of here," he said sharply, anxious to be away from the battle. He was not meant for this. He gathered information and that was it. Whichever side emerged victorious he hoped to be perceived as a supporter, his status as a double agent only reinforcing his less than loyal attitude._

"_I can't leave Harry!" she cried. "He needs us. He can't do this alone."_

"_He has to do it alone. That is the idea, Miss Weasley! _

"_No!" She wrenched her arm from his grasp and moved toward the noise of the fighting. The fire crackled, the air pinged with hexes, the agonizing cries of the tortured combatants, praying that death would arrive soon—and it would soon for both Severus and his young charge if they didn't get out of there._

_He thought about letting her go. If she wanted to die because of a misdirected loyalty to Potter then so be it. But then he remembered Molly and Arthur Weasley—the matriarch's insistence on forcing food down his throat and Arthur's babbling about everything from Muggle batteries to the workings of the Ministry. They had never talked down to him, always treating him with respect. And they loved their family. A memory of Molly clutching her children to her breast flashed before him. They were the kind of family he had always wanted. He couldn't face them again if he abandoned their daughter to capricious fate._

"_I'm coming with you," he said sharply, catching up to her. "Stay behind me, and follow any instructions I give you. Do you understand?" She nodded._

_They followed the narrow streets until they arrived in a large square where the battle had truly begun. The Dark Lord stood at the center, his wand pointed at Potter. Harry lay crumpled on the cobblestones, twitching from what Severus recognized as the Cruciatus Curse._

"_No!" Ginny cried from behind him. She rushed out, running at Voldemort. He saw her and turned his wand on her next. Potter gathered his strength, standing up._

"_Say goodbye to your girlfriend, Potter!" Voldemort taunted. Another flash of green and she slumped to the pavement. But the moment it took to cast the curse gave Potter the opening he needed. He cast the spell needed to dissever the Dark Lord's soul from his body. An unearthly screech filled the square, causing Severus to cover his ears. Voldemort's body keeled over and then began smoking. Having watched the death of his former master, Severus suddenly jumped into action. He fought hard to round up the last of the Death Eaters, his loyalties now finally cemented… _

Severus pulled his thoughts away from his own experiences at the end of the war. They weren't happy or triumphant memories, reminding him instead of the ambiguity of his allegiances. He forced himself to listen as Potter relayed every bloody gory detail of that final meeting between him and the Dark Lord, knowing that Hermione would sense if either one of them were going easy on her, if they were trying to spare her the pain. It had fallen dark when Harry finally finished. The room had filled with the weekend crowd there for drinks. Everyone talked merrily, unaware of the tears that Severus noted rimmed Hermione's eyes, tears she appeared desperate to contain.

"Please, Miss Granger, crying will not bring back the dead. You are left alive and you have a responsibility to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain. They did not give their lives so that you could spend the rest of yours sniffling and feeling sorry for yourself."

"You've said that to me before," she said, one tear escaping down her cheek. He started with surprise. He had said that to her when he had come across her sobbing over the gravestones of the fallen weeks later.

"You remember?" he breathed, his heart jumping into his throat.

"No, but it sounds like something you would say."

He frowned, reaching over to wipe away her tears, but she turned her head ever so slightly away from him. Instead, he reached for his handkerchief.

"Indeed," he said, handing it to her. She took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. He waved away her hand when she tried to return it to him, and she placed it in the pocket of her robes.

"Hermione, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…" Harry sputtered.

"It's alright, Harry," she said, comforting her friend. "I wanted to know. I needed to know."

"I think perhaps we should return home. Allow you to process everything you have heard today," Snape said, standing and offering her his hand. Harry nodded in agreement, and Hermione reluctantly placed her small hand in his larger one.

"We need to work on our other angle as well," she said.

"Other angle?" Harry asked.

"Mulciber," Snape stated. Potter nodded.

"Yes, best to pursue every lead you have," he agreed. Snape sneered at him, the arrogant twit.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, the boy actually brightening at his words. "I didn't know how to run an effective investigation myself, nor did Hermione." Potter's smile drooped.

"I'm doing this for Hermione, not for you, Snape."

"Believe me when I say I would never ask you." Hermione frowned, wrenching her hand from his.

"I see some things never change. I'm going home," she said. She marched over to the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green light. Severus threw one last nasty look at Potter and then followed her.

She wasn't in the rooms when he returned. An unnatural silence filled the space as he wondered what he would have to do to fix things this time. He cursed himself for not having any control when it came to Potter, and then cursed Potter for being so irritating in the first place. He debated whether or not he should look for her. She had just relived those terrible last days; maybe she needed time alone. But he was very reluctant to leave her be when he didn't know where she was in the first place. Deciding he would look for her, then he would give her the space she might need, he set out to prowl the hallways.

It didn't take long to find her. She was talking to a portrait of Millicent the Moldy, worrying about being out after hours for something silly like a duel. His anger spiked, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Madam Pomfrey had told him that this could happen, that it had happened, but it was different seeing it than it was hearing about it second-hand.

'Well,' he thought, 'if she wants to act like a student then I will treat her like one.'

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for wandering the halls at night and detention," he said sharply and then quickly wished he hadn't. A memory of Hermione dressed in her school robes flashed before him.

"_Professor Snape," she said in that voice that sent shivers down his spine. "I just feel terrible. I can't hide it from you any longer." He raised an eyebrow, and set his papers down._

"_What are you playing at, you vixen? And why are you wearing these?" he asked, taking the dull black fabric of her robes between his fingers._

"_I'm the one who stole the Boomslang skin from your office in my second year," she confessed._

"_That was you?" He hardly believed it, but she nodded, coming closer._

"_I'm ready for my detention," she whispered into his ear, "sir." _

_He smiled and pulled her to him. "Is that so? I have lots of nasty things that need to be done," he said, kissing her. He decided then and there that he liked this game._

He had teased her when they first married about her age and that she used to be his student by threatening her with detention or loss of House points. He did it mainly because the whole situation made him feel a bit uneasy, as though he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule or taking advantage of the situation by marrying her, but she had surprised him that night by showing up in her old school uniform, telling him she was ready to serve her detention. It had been the best 'detention' he had ever had.

"Professor Snape," she said, turning to face him. He no longer cringed at her insistence on calling him by his title. He wondered at how quickly he had become accustomed to being called Professor by her again. "I tried to stop them from coming but they insisted. Malfoy challenged Harry to a duel. But then he didn't show up, and the Fat Lady went to visit a friend and we couldn't get back into Gryffindor Tower. We didn't mean to see that dog."

He stared at her incredulously. She must be talking about her first year in school when Dumbledore had insisted on keeping that monster dog of Hagrid's in the school.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Come with me," he said, holding out his hand to her. Tentatively, she accepted it.

"Why would anyone keep a three-headed dog like that?" she asked as he led her back down to the dungeons.

"Or name it Fluffy?"

"That thing has a name?"

He smiled at her distaste. He had thought the very same thing when Hagrid had first introduced the animal to the staff all those years ago. "I'm afraid so." He listened as she rattled on, jumping from midnight duels to illegal dragons to Flamel. Apparently saving the Philosopher's Stone hadn't been her only adventure that year. He remembered being very impressed at her being able to solve his logic puzzle. He hadn't liked her for a very long time, but she never ceased to amaze him.

Finally reaching their rooms, he found the bottle Pomfrey had given him for these kinds of situations. She still looked a bit dazed after drinking it, and he insisted that she lay down on the couch for a few moments, while he went to ask one of the house-elves for tea.

"That stuff tastes horrible," she said when he came back, accepting a steaming mug from him.

"I'll ask Poppy if we can add it to something the next time."

"The next time?" she asked, frowning. "I hope there isn't a next time."

"Me too, but just in case." He had hated seeing her vulnerable like that. He would talk to Pomfrey about a cure as soon as possible, or if she couldn't help then someone at St. Mungo's. He knew Hermione had visited the Healers there already; Molly Weasley had taken her while he taught classes, but perhaps they needed more 'motivation.' And of course, knowing what had happened would help in knowing what could be done to reverse it.

She nodded, but didn't say anything more. They sipped their tea in silence. Hermione sat with a pensive look on her face, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

"Is there a memorial somewhere?" she asked abruptly. He realized she had been mulling over the details Potter had relayed to her this evening. Maybe that had triggered her memory loss, the stress and emotional overload. He would need to make sure that she didn't overdo anything in the future; otherwise, there would be more foul-tasting potions to take.

"There is, and a small cemetery as well. I'll take you tomorrow."

"I think I'd rather go alone," she said, not looking at him but into her now empty teacup.

"That's not a good idea. What if you have another episode?" he said quietly. "I won't bother you if you want to say your goodbyes."

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks again. "How did you….how did you go on?"

"I had you," he said, rising to take her cup from her. She placed it in his hands, her fingers brushing against his. Looking up at him, she forced a smile. He knew it didn't seem like much, but they had been there for each other after the war. His case had given her a needed distraction while she worked through her grief, and she had saved him from both the Ministry and himself. He had only ever told her about that night. Her support, her belief that he was still worth loving had given him the courage to try and find some happiness. He didn't know what prompted her to look for the good in him, but she had found a very small part of him that was yet untouched. With her gentle guiding, it had grown until he was almost the man she was worthy of. It had taken them awhile to get past the war, and he cursed again whoever had brought them back to this painful point in their lives.

'I will never be free of the Dark Lord and his destruction,' he thought ruefully to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The trip to the cemetery had been uneventful. Severus had stood outside the small stone wall that surrounded the gravestones and watched, with a heavy heart, as his wife wept openly over the graves as she had done so many years before. He had come across her then and had snarled at her to get on with her life. At the time, he had had no idea that that life would soon include him. Maybe that meeting in the graveyard had been a catalyst. She had respected him before, maybe even felt an attraction for him, but he had proved himself as just another human being that day.

"_Please, Miss Granger, crying will not bring back the dead. You are left alive and you have a responsibility to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain. They did not give their lives so that you could spend the rest of yours sniffling and feeling sorry for yourself." _

_She looked up from where she was kneeling. "Excuse me?" she asked astonished._

"_I believe you heard me."_

"_What would you know about it, Snape?"_

"_I'm here, aren't I? But unlike you I am here to honor the dead, not to feel sorry for myself." She paled at his words. He could see that she was biting her lip to keep from saying something she might regret._

_She took a deep breath, visibly calmer, and asked, "Who are you here for?"_

"_For my students. The ones I couldn't save—Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott—those who stood up not only to the Dark Lord, but to their families as well. They had already lost everything before they fell, but they fought anyway. For Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom who gave their lives so that we might continue ours in peace." _

_A choked sob threatened to escape as he contemplated their deaths, as he spelled out what that meant to this Gryffindor before him. The guilt ate at him daily. He had said nothing to them, fearing that he might give away his position as a spy. He had stood back and watched as two brave Gryffindors, young adults who had their whole lives stretched before them, die needlessly while he did nothing. He told her not to feel sorry for herself, but even in that, he was a hypocrite. Could he do nothing right in this life? He didn't deserve to be here, no more than anyone else. _

_He turned away, hiding his pain from her. It was a weakness; something he refused to show her. When he turned back, she was looking at him with understanding in her eyes. She didn't say anything, but had just nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. A month later, she had shown up at his door with her questions._

Severus hadn't lectured her this time, but he did take the time to place flowers on his Slytherin students' graves. They may have died, but in the end, they had been freed. No one would ever own them as the Dark Lord had owned him, and for that, they deserved to be honored. When Hermione was ready to leave, he escorted her home. It had been another quiet evening, but it wasn't as heavy. She had been right again in that she needed to know. And now that she did, she could move on, she could recover.

Eager to move on to other things, they both threw themselves into researching the possible whereabouts of Mulciber, and Hermione had been reading about money transfers in the Muggle and Magic world alike to see if there was anything that might help lead them to Malfoy. A week later, Severus found himself in a dark Muggle suit, mulling over what he would say, and possibly do, to Mulciber when he found him. He only hoped this was the right place. He didn't know if he would ever forgive Hermione if she sent him out to the wrong place.

It went without saying that Severus hated the Muggle world. And despite the fact that Hermione was Muggle-born, he had been spared the duty of meeting her parents. He supposed their status as orphans in the world had something to do with their connection to each other, but he was glad nonetheless. Not that he would ever say that to her, of course. She had loved her parents, whereas he had despised his. The fact that they were gone was where the similarities ended.

Hermione had tracked him down to a small establishment in the south of England.

"He owns a 'gentlemen's club,'" she had told him. She had explained about the women when he had cocked his eyebrow. It was then that he decided that she would not accompany him.

"But I was an Auror. I have special training. I bet I have dealt with tons of Death Eaters, and I know for a fact that I have dealt with this one before."

"You only oversaw his release from Azkaban. I know this man, Hermione. I know how to get answers from him, and believe me, it is not with my wife standing at my side."

She had glared at him angrily before leaving the room in a huff, but she hadn't said anything more when he left. At least in her sixth year mindset she was more willing to submit to his authority. His Hermione would never have allowed him to be so high handed with her. But he would not put her in any further danger if Mulciber did turn out to be the one that had did this to her.

Apparating to the location Hermione had provided him, Severus found himself in a car park. A dismal gray building with garish neon lights stood in front of him. Entering, he fingered his wand. The inside was dark, smoky, and just as dreadful as the outside had promised. A bar was at one end of the room. A few middle aged men, their bellies overflowing out of their trousers, drank beers and watched lazily as a few scantily clad women danced on a stage.

'It's the middle of the day; don't these men have jobs?' Snape thought. But he didn't ponder the matter long as he sighted the former Death Eater.

"Mulciber, how _nice_ to see you," Severus said, laying emphasis on the word so as to convey that he thought quite the opposite. The last time he had seen the man, he had been using the Imperius Curse on a young Muggle girl.

"Snape, what are you doing here?" He looked surprised and a little worried.

'Good,' Severus thought, 'he should be worried.'

"Well, I'm certainly not here for the show," he said with a sneer, looking at the poorly clad girls up and down before turning back to Mulciber.

"I thought Muggles were your style. I heard you married a Mudblood," Mulciber said, never looking away from the dancers.

"That's what I'm here about actually."

"Looking for a new wife? I always knew you had trouble with the ladies, but Muggles, Severus?" Snape bit his tongue, reigning in his anger. They would get nowhere if he killed Mulicber before getting any information from him. Better to beat him at his own game.

"You seem to be doing just fine," he said, pausing to let it sink in. He noted with satisfaction at the small frown that crossed Mulciber's face. Clearly, if he had any choice, Muggle women would not be his primary company.

"Amazing really after all our fellow compatriots ended up in Azkaban or worse, but somehow you escaped with only exile," Severus continued.

"We were not compatriots, you blood traitor," Mulciber said, wheeling around to face Severus at last.

"I did what I had to do to survive," Severus said. Looking Mulciber up and down, he continued, "And so did you it seems."

"It could be better," Mulciber answered with a sigh, his anger quickly forgotten. "I'm lucky the Ministry is full of brainless twits with no strength of will."

"So you used an Imperius Curse to keep you out of Azkaban?" Severus asked.

"Just a mild one, suggesting that I face lesser charges. I couldn't get rid of them completely of course, that would have been too suspicious. I almost laughed at the confusion on the Minister of Magic's face when he realized I was being charged with assault only. But what could he do when the Auror's report clearly stated that I had nothing to do with the rest of it."

"I would think exile extreme then," Severus commented.

"Yes, well, he had his bit of revenge with that," Mulciber said bitterly. "But it could be worse." He looked thoughtfully back at the dancers, whose tops had since come off. "What do you want, Snape?"

"I want to know where you were September 23rd?"

"Whatever for?"

"Answer the question, Mulciber," Severus said menacingly.

"I was here, like always. I have a business to run. It consumes a lot more time without house-elves or even a wand for simple spells." Severus stared at him, trying to sense if the former Death Eater was lying. It appeared he was telling the truth, but just to be sure, Severus continued.

"You weren't in London, near the Ministry?"

"No, why would I go there? If they see me anywhere near Wizarding establishments I'll be packing my bags for Azkaban. This isn't paradise, but it's not a bad life, and I'm not willing to risk it. Now you tell me why you want to know."

"My wife was attacked. She handled your release from Azkaban. Perhaps you are upset that you couldn't 'convince' her that you should be allowed to stay in the Wizarding world."

"Was that your wife? She introduced herself as Hermione Granger. Didn't even take your name, I see. I don't blame her, who would want to be a Snape after your fall from grace. Although as a Mudblood, I guess you're her hero. Is that how you got into her knickers, Snape? It certainly wasn't your charm or good looks," Mulciber taunted.

Enraged, Severus grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall. "You'll do well to remember that I am the one with the wand here, not you."

"Oh, I remember, Snape. I never forget," Mulciber said, even as he gasped for air.

"Tell me what I want to know," he demanded, increasing his grip.

"It wasn't me. Ask the girls if you need to," Mulciber choked out.

"I just might do that," Severus said, releasing him. Mulicber collapsed back against the wall, gasping for air and massaging his neck. "Just out of curiosity, did you try to use the Curse on Hermione when you were released?"

"It wouldn't have mattered. She would have had to change the Minister's mind. Besides, I was too weak then to perform any magic, let alone an Imperius Curse."

"She's too strong minded for such nonsense anyway. I imagine that's why they assigned her the case in the first place."

Mulciber shrugged, pulling his clothes back into place. "Is that all?"

"Yes," Severus answered, turning and heading for the door. When he reached it, he turned and looked back at Mulciber, "Good luck with the Muggles."

He smirked at the frown the other man gave. Severus had thought about Obliviating him, but decided that it would be better if the man remembered his small brush with the world he was no longer a part of; it would be more painful that way, and nothing he didn't deserve. But other than that, the night had been unproductive. He had learned nothing other than that Mulciber was not the man they were after. He could be a cold-blooded killer, a master in Muggle torture but he also valued his life and wouldn't risk the Dementor's Kiss if he was seen anywhere London. Just to be sure, Snape stopped a young woman getting out of her car.

"Do you work here?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I just dance, that's all."

"Was your boss, Mr. Mulciber, here on the 23rd of September?"

"Yeah, why do you want to know?"

"_Obliviate_," he said, rather than give an answer. She stared at him vacantly before turning and going inside. Once she was gone, Severus Apparated back to Hogsmeade.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked the moment he walked through the door. She had never had much patience.

"He's not the one," he said, throwing himself down on the couch. She sat in one of the armchairs, a frown on her face.

"Then Malfoy is our best guess."

"It appears that way. Have you found anything that might be helpful?"

"No, it's just like Harry says. The money just disappears after the orphanage," she said. "I think we should visit it. The orphanage, I mean. We could pose as potential donors or parents who are looking to adopt, poke around a bit. The only reason Harry hasn't yet is because the Ministry refuses to pay for it. As long as Draco stays out of the UK, then they don't care what he does."

"That's a good idea. It will have to over the holidays though, when I can get away from class."

"Speaking of the holidays, the Weasleys have invited us for Christmas," she said nonchalantly, picking up her book.

"And?" he growled.

"I said we would be there. From what I understand they invite us every year."

"And every year, you respectfully decline. We spend the holiday here together and you go to the Burrow for the New Year," he said, frowning.

"Hmmm, that explains why Molly was so excited when I accepted. We can't back out now. Besides it will be nice to be around a crowd of people for Christmas."

What she really meant was that she didn't want to be with him alone on the holiday. But immediately he berated himself for being so harsh. In her mind, she had just lost her parents in the last several months, in addition to the stress of losing her memories and learning she was married to him. The Weasleys were the closest thing she had to family at the moment. It was selfish of him to want her all to himself. Of course, she didn't remember what it was like to be married. His Hermione would never have asked something of him like this, knowing that he would expect her to reciprocate by doing something equally distasteful to her. He wondered if he would be able to use this to his advantage later on or should he just refuse to go?

"Do you really want me there?" he asked.

"Yes. I mean I just thought that…it never occurred to me that you wouldn't."

"Your memory loss must be worse than we originally thought," he quipped. She bit her lip, looking away. It was always that way with her; one look was enough to undo him.

"I will go with you," he said softer. She turned back to him and smiled. Its brilliance lit up the room, and he knew that he had done the right thing. It was moments like these that he understood the meaning of love. She had been through so much recently; the least he could do is accompany her to the Burrow for Christmas, no matter how awful the idea appeared to him. More importantly than that was the fact that she _wanted_ him to accompany her. It was another small step in the right direction.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Severus thought that Christmas would be an opportunity to win Hermione over. But the day was not turning out how he had hoped, not at all. The whole holiday season felt slightly wrong. It was about tradition, and Hermione and Severus weren't following any of theirs. It hardly seemed like the Yuletide when they didn't decorate their tree together. Every year they had been together, she had insisted on his help. He always moaned and complained, but deep down inside he looked forward to it.

_She bustled around the tree, fussing with his placement of things. _

"_You're putting them too close together, Severus," she said, moving two ornaments further apart. One was a small Nativity scene and the other featured the three kings. He had arranged them so it looked like they were nearly at their destination. The way she had placed them, they now had a lot farther to go._

"_If you don't like the way I put them on the tree then perhaps I should leave the job to you," he snapped, reaching for his eggnog. He only hoped that the house-elves had added extra rum like he had asked. He felt a little silly that he was so irritated over Christmas ornaments._

"_The whole point is to do it together," she argued, sidling up next to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms followed suit, though he was careful not to spill his eggnog. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek._

"_If you insist," he said, sounding more put out than he really felt. She beamed at him and handed him another ornament. This one appeared to be a bear holding wrapped presents. Most of their Christmas decorations were Muggle, scavenged from her childhood home. _

"_Here, take this. It used to be my favorite when I was a kid." He swigged his drink once more before taking it from her out stretched hand. _

"_How is this?" he asked after placing it on the tree. It looked good to him, proportionate to the surrounding baubles._

"_A little higher," she said. He growled his frustration, but moved it up._

But they hadn't decorated the tree this year. It had been two days before Christmas Eve before the house-elves finally put something up. Christmas Day turned out different as well. Hermione usually woke him up with a kiss and they would breakfast in bed before opening their presents. This year he woke before she did, but he was hesitant to wake her. He worried about her. Professor Sprout had found Hermione in the greenhouses battling the Fanged Geranium a week before, all memory of who and where she was gone. Even after taking her potion, she seemed less like herself. He hoped their visit to the Burrow would lift her from the gloom she had descended into recently.

It was the only reason he was willing to go. They would do her good, but they would leave him with a twitch in his eye and a pounding headache. Leaning back, he sat against the headboard, mentally trying to prepare himself. They weren't expecting them until dinner, but he wondered if they had any Draught of Peace in stock or if he had enough time to brew some before they left.

He was in the middle of calculating the brewing time for only one dose, (though he contemplated whether or not he might need more once he arrived) when Hermione awoke with a yawn. She stretched her arms high above her head, and then rolled over to look at him.

"Good morning," she said sleepily.

"Happy Christmas." He reached down and smoothed her hair. He pulled his hand away when she moved to sit up, leaning against the headboard next to him.

"Yes, Merry Christmas."

"That didn't sound merry at all. In fact you've done nothing but mope around lately," he said. It was true. She had been withdrawn since she had returned to him, but she had seemed to sink into a new level of moroseness in the last week or two.

"I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I imagine this is always a hard time of year, isn't it? With mum and dad gone and so many friends."

"It's a time to remember the loved ones we have lost and celebrate with the ones we have left," he told her. She was silent for a moment, and Severus wondered if perhaps he has said the wrong thing.

"You're right," she said finally. He smirked, knowing he had quoted her own words from a toast she had given years ago at a Ministry dinner celebrating the end of the war.

"I have remembered, and now its time to celebrate. Where are the presents?" she asked with a smile. He moved to the end of the bed, scooping up their presents and handing them to her.

"Another Weasley sweater," she said a few minutes later, holding up a maroon and gold striped monstrosity.

"Yes, I have one too," he said, showing her a black sweater.

"And in your favorite color!" she exclaimed.

"Black is not my favorite color."

"It's not?"

"No, my favorite color is red, especially when you are wearing it." He handed her a package. Ripping into it, she pulled out a set of ruby dress robes.

"Oh, professor, they're lovely."

"And this should match," he said, handing her a small jewelry box. She opened it, cooing over the necklace inside. He had one other gift to give her, but he decided to wait until later. Maybe tonight, after they returned from the Weasley's, they would sit by the fire with some eggnog. He would give it to her then.

"This is for you," she said shyly, handing him two packages. In the first was a green and silver scarf obviously knitted by Hermione herself.

"It has a Warming Charm knitted into it, so it's very cozy," she explained. He smiled and thanked her, reminding himself to hide the one she had made him last year that was just like it.

"It will be perfect for watching Quidditch matches," he told her. She agreed happily, watching as he opened the second. It was a book entitled _Barbs by the Bard, 101 Shakespearean Insults_.

"I thought it might help when you're marking essays," she said with a mischievous grin. He smiled back.

"It will indeed, thought most of them are so poorly educated that they will fail to realize I've even insulted them," he said with a mock frown.

"Even better, your reputation can improve while you secretly laugh behind their backs," she said with a giggle. He leaned over and pecked her cheek. She blushed, but her smile didn't disappear.

"Thank you." And he truly meant it. Even without her memories, she had been able to find a gift that would amuse him. That had to mean something. He had never been a big believer in Fate, but he was starting to think that maybe they had always meant to be together. It was the only way to explain why Hermione was with him.

"Shall I wear these today?" she asked, jumping up from the bed, her new robes in hand. He nodded, but his smile turned into a slight frown when he realized she had gone into the bathroom to change. He supposed it was expecting too much even for Christmas to be allowed to watch her dress.

She came out half an hour later, her hair and makeup done, looking stunning in her new clothes. The red complemented her skin tone perfectly, and it picked up the brassy highlights in her hair.

"Allow me," he said, holding out the necklace. She turned and pulled her hair up, baring her neck to him. He drew the moment out as long as he possibly could, his fingers brushing against her skin as he fastened the clasp. The truth was that the necklace had a magical clasp that would fix itself, but he would tell her that later. Until then, he would be putting it on her. Spinning her around, he surveyed her.

"Lovely," he told her.

"It is pretty," she said, fingering the bauble.

"No, I meant you," he told her. Her cheeks reddened at the compliment, but her eyes sparkled. Even her sixteen-year-old self reveled in his attention in regards to her appearance. Most everyone else she knew gave her books for Christmas, but he had always abstained, presenting her instead with jewelry and clothes that she wouldn't buy for himself.

In the beginning, it had been because he realized that if people were to know he had a trophy wife, she would need to be more properly attired. He loved Hermione in her plain black robes with her hair pulled back and no make-up, but when they went out he wanted her to be stunning. Over time, he realized that while most people acknowledged her intelligence, they regularly overlooked her natural beauty. She didn't often hear that she was pretty. His gifts focused on the fact that he thought she was gorgeous. She knew that he thought she was intelligent as well; he brought home books and journal articles to discuss with her among other things. But he let Potter and Weasley shower her with book tokens while he gave her jewels. She might never say which she preferred, but he rather thought her two best friends didn't get the same thank yous he received. At least they better not!

"But you took so long at your toilette that I'm overcome with hunger," he said dramatically the next second. He wanted her to feel pleased and beautiful, but he didn't want her feeling too self-conscious. She shot him a mock frown, but followed him out of the room. Guiding her into the living room, he drew out her seat and summoned a house-elf to order breakfast.

"Happy Christmas, professor," she said after their food had arrived, holding her pumpkin juice aloft.

"You sounded almost happy that time."

"I very nearly am," she said with a smile.

&&&&

"I think part of my problem is that I'm bored. I don't do much during the day," she told him later as they ate breakfast. They were eating sticky rolls, and Severus watched as Hermione licked the icing from her fingers, desperately wishing that he could do the job himself. Not yet. She had responded well to his gift, but he needed to spend more time with her before she would consent to him sucking on her fingers or any other part of her anatomy. And then the perfect idea struck him.

"You could work as my assistant," he offered, hoping he sounded more nonchalant than eager.

"I thought you said I was an Auror?"

"You were an Auror, but you can't continue in your current condition. I think maybe stress causes you to relapse, and as an Auror you are under a lot of stress." She nodded her agreement.

"You can even start today," he added, taking a bite of his own sticky roll.

"Today? But it's Christmas!"

"Yes, and if I'm going to the Weasley's I'm going to need some Draught of Peace. It won't take long to brew some, and I would appreciate your help."

She stared at her coffee cup, considering the matter. Looking up, she smiled at him.

"Alright then. When do we start?" His heart leapt. She had agreed.

"As soon as you're finished eating breakfast."

&&&&

It was a good thing that Severus and Hermione had brewed the Draught of Peace. He had enjoyed the quiet time spent with her in the lab. It seemed that only her personal memories had been affected. She still retained much of the knowledge she had learned in school. He didn't teach the Draught of Peace until seventh year, something she wouldn't have remembered otherwise.

He had taken a big swig before stepping into the fireplace with Hermione. Unfortunately, they arrived mere seconds after Bill and his brood. Severus had landed on a small red-headed child who had started screaming immediately. The potion allowed him to bite back any retort he had for the little brat, and instead he took pleasure in the fact that his mere appearance could still make children cry. It was essential in his line of work.

The afternoon did not get better. There had been a long and loud dinner. And then there had been carol singing. Molly had insisted that they all sit around the radio and listen to some woman named Worneck sing. More like Warbler, Severus thought.

After three hours, he could stand it no longer, the incessant chatter about nothing, the children who screamed and scurried through the room at regular intervals, Potter. He stood and went to look for Hermione. They hadn't brewed enough potion to endure all this, and he hadn't thought to bring extra with him. Pushing his way through the never-ending sea of red hair, he entered the kitchen. He thought he heard her voice, but it sounded muffled. A door to one side was open just a crack and he moved in its direction. Placing his hand on the knob, readying himself to push open the door and begin telling her his reasons for wanting to leave early, he heard another voice and he stilled.

"Hermione, love," the voice said softly, pleading, "Don't you remember?"

"I told you, Percy, I don't remember anything," Hermione said.

"Then I'll tell you," the voice he now recognized as Percy Weasley's said.

"Tell me what?"

"You love me."

"What?" Hermione choked out. Severus reached for his wand, but then paused. He wanted to hear how this played out.

"You were planning on leaving that greasy bastard right before you lost your memories."

"Don't talk about him like that," Hermione said vehemently.

"There you are," he said, entering the room as if he hadn't been eavesdropping. Though from the startled looks on Percy and Hermione's faces he didn't think he had fooled either one. Percy jumped back. Hermione looked surprised and then relieved.

"I'm ready to go," he said sharply. She looked from him to Percy and then back again. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes," she answered quietly. "Let me just go say thank you to Molly and Arthur."

He nodded, and moved to the side as she slipped by him. When she had left the room, he closed the door, trapping Percy in the small pantry with him and his temper. Advancing slowly, he pulled out his wand. Percy swallowed visibly, backing up until he rested against the wall.

"Let us come to an understanding, Mr. Weasley. You are an arrogant, insufferable, cowardly twit who would take advantage of a terrible situation for your own gain. I may not deserve her, but you deserve her even less. And if I ever see you near my wife again, be assured I will make the Killing Curse look appealing. Do you understand?" Percy's eyes widened and he whimpered.

"Stay away from my wife!" Severus finished. He pushed his wand a little further into the fleshy part of Percy's neck, then turned and stalked out of the room before he did something he regretted.

Hermione stood waiting for him in the kitchen. When she saw him, she quickly approached him, "Please Professor, I can explain…"

"Not here!" he barked. He had no wish to make a scene here, to be revealed as a cuckhold in front of an army of Weasleys and their wives, in addition to Potter. Stalking to the fireplace, he didn't wait for her before throwing in the Floo powder and disappearing. After a swirling ride, he stepped out of their fire. He glanced around the room—the couch and chairs grouped around the fire, his desk in the corner, the shelves with her books that lined the walls, the small table where they ate breakfast together. It was their home, and quite possibly, it had all been a joke.

Hermione stepped out of the fire a few moments later. She didn't wait before she began speaking.

"Professor, please let me explain."

"Severus!" he spat, turning around to face her, his robes swishing around him.

"W-what?"

"My name is Severus! I am your husband, not your professor, no matter how much that happens to pain you." His hands trembled as his voice grew louder. He hardly ever yelled. He hated losing control, and he fought to keep the anger down, along with the urge to hurt her or something else.

"S-Severus, I'm sorry," she said meekly. "What did you hear?"

"Enough to know Weasley thinks you were going to leave me. What's going on between you two?" he hissed.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "Nothing happened today, I promise. I was leaving when you stormed in."

"And before?" Her cheeks reddened and she looked away distressed.

"I…I don't remember."

"How very convenient," he said, turning from her and walking away. He knew it wasn't fair. She hadn't asked to be assaulted, to have her memories stolen, but it was equally unfair to him to have to second-guess her fidelity. It had occurred to him before that she might want to leave him, but he had desperately hoped that it would never actually happen. He watched as his worst nightmare came true.

"How dare you?" she sputtered from behind him. "How dare you? I didn't ask for this. I was just as surprised to hear that as you!"

He turned around to see that she had followed him around the couch.

"Do you really think so little of me? Percy Weasley?" she asked.

"Your past experience proves your poor taste," he spat.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She glared at him.

"You're friends with Potter and Weasley. You've dated both of them, Viktor Krum, and a thin, wiry, Muggle with glasses. It's not a far jump to Percy Weasley."

"I suppose that's true since I married you," she retorted.

"Exactly."

He didn't wait to hear her answer, but strode to the door connecting to his office and slammed the door. On the other side, he leaned back and closed his eyes. When they opened again, they came to rest on his Pensieve. He hadn't used it since the end of the war. But it was so tempting now. He could have his Hermione back, could relive happier moments when he held her in his arms and knew that in that instant at least she loved him. Yes, that was what he would do. She may not be able to remember, but he certainly could.

_She was giggly from the wine. Normally her tittering would have irritated him, but he was much too excited about the rest of the evening to care. She looked lovely in her white robes, her hair pulled half back with flowers tucked in amongst the curls, the come-hither look that shone in her eyes._

"_Did you see the look on their faces?" she asked._

"_They were all wondering the same thing I was," he said with a smirk, stalking towards her._

"_And what is that?"_

"_How the hell did I get so lucky?" She giggled again, and he kissed her to shut her up. No more wine in the future for her. If they were to live in marital bliss, he would have to be sure she didn't drink anything stronger than butterbeer._

"_I'm the one that's lucky," she said breathless a few moments later._

"_I would argue, but I have more pressing matters to attend to." He turned her around, his hands manipulating each of the tiny buttons down the back of her robes. He brushed against each inch of newly exposed skin, his lips dragging across the scars left over from the war._

"_They really were surprised though. I would have thought the idea of us being together would have cemented in their minds after a year and a half. It's not as if we rushed into things. But Harry looked as though he might have a coronary. He accused me of being influenced by your sneaky Slytherin ways. Oh! That feels nice," she rattled on. Having finished with her buttons, he spun her back round, pulling down her robes._

"_Do be quiet. I would rather not discuss Potter or any other of your friends tonight. I want nothing to distract me from you." He didn't let her respond but pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss._

"_Hmmm, too right," she murmured in between his kisses, her hands now fumbling with his own buttons._

Severus looked away, his stomach lurching. He couldn't bear to watch that moment to its conclusion, the thought of someone else doing that with Hermione weighing too heavily on his mind. The contents of the Pensieve swirled and he looked in again.

_She came through the door, threw down her suitcase, and flung her arms around his neck. _

"_I am so glad to be home!" she said before kissing him thoroughly._

"_Need a holiday from your holiday," he quipped._

"_No, no, it was relaxing, but I missed you."_

"_Then maybe next time you'll stay home with me," he said, kissing her nose. She frowned, pulling away._

"_How many times are we going to have this argument, Severus?" She reached down for her suitcase and took it into the bedroom. He followed her. Wrapping his arms around her as she unpacked, he ignored how she stiffened._

"_I brought you something," she said, holding out the conch shell. He took it while she explained how it worked. Placing it on the bedside table, he responded with a characteristically sarcastic remark. Her face fell._

"_Right, well then, I'll just unpack." He watched as she waved her wand and piles of clothes leapt into the air and flew to the closet. Catching his eye, he reached out and grabbed at her swimsuit._

"_Don't tell me that this is what you wore," he demanded. She wheeled around, her eyes flashing with anger._

"_Yes it is."_

"_In front of Potter and Weasley? They saw you in this?" He held up the offending garment._

"_Yes, Severus, they have seen me in my bathing suit. You would have seen me in it and less if you would have come with me on holiday. In fact you would have seen me in it and less _tonight_ if you hadn't insisted on acting like such an ass." And with that, she snatched it from his hand and stormed from the room._

Severus looked away from the swirling Pensieve, surprised to see Albus standing next to him. He hadn't heard him come in.

"Anything interesting?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was all a joke. How could I have ever thought it was more than that?" Severus threw himself into his chair, summoning his bottle of firewhisky and a glass.

"Because it was more than that. You love her, and she loves you."

Severus didn't meet the headmaster's eye, staring instead at the alcohol in front of him. Irritating and meddlesome old man! Why couldn't he simply leave him in peace, let him wallow in his misery alone?

"How did you even know there was anything wrong?" he asked suddenly. Had someone at the Weasley's found out? Had Potter? The headmaster was known for being nearly omniscient but even this was beyond his normal scope. They had only argued an hour ago.

"Hermione burst in on Minerva and me toasting the Yuletide. She was quite upset, I must say. I left Minerva to calm her down. You have to work through this, Severus. You will be happier. Hermione will be happier. And Minerva and I will be happier."

"What did she say?"

"She was upset so it was hard to understand everything. But luckily, one of the many languages I speak is distressed woman. You wouldn't believe how handy it is working at a school with adolescent girls or with Minerva for that matter…"

"What did she say?" he ground out, frustrated with the headmaster's rambling.

"She kept saying that her marriage was over. She was quite upset by it really." Severus pondered that for a moment. She was worried that it was over. He would have thought she would have jumped at an excuse to leave him.

"She wants this to work too, Severus. Deep down inside she knows this is right," Dumbledore continued. "Go to her. Tell her how you feel. Tell her about your life together. She needs to hear it; she needs to see it." Severus nodded slowly. The old man was right. He was always right, and it irritated him. Couldn't he let him wallow in his self-pity just one night?

This hadn't been the first time they had fought, but they had always made up. He could make this work. He would make this work. But then an image of Percy Weasley floated before his mind's eye, and he replayed the overheard conversation in his head. The anger boiled anew.

"I know you'll do the right thing," Dumbledore said, patting him one last time on the back before he left. Severus sat, fiddling with his glass. He would go back in there in apologize, but not now. He knew himself too well, and he was much too angry and too drunk to do anything tonight. He would only succeed in making things worse. Instead, he refilled his glass and stirred through his Pensieve, looking for happy memories of Hermione.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Severus spent most of the night in his Pensieve recalling happier times. He stumbled back into the bedroom late into the night. He lit the candles in the room, keeping the light dim and low. Hermione was on the bed, but not under the covers. She was still dressed in her new robes, and her hair was a frizzy mess that covered her face and pillow. Reaching over, he gently moved it out of her face, afraid she might suffocate herself sleeping like that. He noticed her cheeks were tear-stained and her mascara had run, leaving inky tracks down her face. She looked awful, but even in her disarray Severus couldn't help but think she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen.

He needed to find out what had really happened before Hermione's memory loss. The answer might devastate him, but wasn't it better to know the truth. He could still win her back, but would he keep her if he continued on as he had done before? Instead of crawling into bed as he had planned, he turned around and exited the bedroom, heading for the Floo.

"14 Terrace DrDrive," he called out. After a flash of green light, Severus stepped out into a darkened sitting room.

"_Lumos_," he said quietly, holding up his wand. There were two couches flanking the fireplace. A coffee table between them held various copies of _the Quibbler_. Toys were strewn everywhere. He picked his way through the mess, unsure of how to announce his arrival to the sleeping household. All of the alcohol he had consumed earlier had addled his higher cognitive skills, including planning.

His attention wandered as he contemplated the matter, and he didn't see the pile of new Weasley Wizarding Products in the floor. He tripped, landing quite noisily.

"Damn," he cursed loudly. Sparks from his lit wand jumped, setting alight a set of Filbuster's Fireworks. They exploded, lighting the dark room in an explosion of different colors. Severus grappled with the coffee table to stand up. He felt something sharp on his nose, and he screeched with pain. But before he could extract the nose-biting teacup he had inadvertently grabbed off the table, he felt his whole body freeze. He fell stiffly back to the floor. The lights came on, the fireworks were stopped, and then he saw the face of Ronald Weasley standing over him.

"Bloody hell," Weasley exclaimed. "What are you doing here, Snape?"

"Let me up," he groaned. Ron flicked his wand, and Severus suddenly had control over his muscles again. He reached up and grabbed the teacup from his nose, tossing it aside. Standing up stiffly, he brushed off his robes and tried his best to look somewhat dignified. He realized that his dramatic entrance had awoken the whole household, and Luna and their three children stood watching him.

"What do you want?" Ron asked again.

"I need to talk…about Hermione," he added when he saw Weasley's disbelief.

"Go back to bed," Ron said to the children. They obeyed, their curiosity outweighed by their fear of the scowling Potions master. "Would you mind making us a pot of tea, Luna?" She nodded, heading for what Severus assumed was the kitchen. The two men sat, each eyeing the other suspiciously.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Snape," Ron said.

"Perhaps if you kept your home tidier, I wouldn't have had to greet you with such fanfare," Severus retorted. Before Weasley could retaliate, Luna returned with their tea.

"I added some figwort. You look like you've lost your selkie's skin," she told him.

Severus stared at her. Was she being serious? He took a tentative sip and then decided selkie's skin or not, figwort was used to expel nightmares and that was definitely something he needed at the moment.

"Getting straight to the point, I made an unfortunate discovery this afternoon," Severus began. He despised the idea of laying forth his failures as a husband to the likes of Ronald Weasley, but Ron was close to both Hermione and Percy. If anyone would have any insight into what had taken place, it would be him. And so Severus told him what he had overheard.

"Well that explains the letter I received tonight," Ron said.

"Letter?" Weasley handed him a parchment.

_Dear Ron_,

_I'm in a terrible mess. Severus and I have quarreled. Perhaps we do this often, I don't really know, but this felt wrong, very wrong. I've never really failed at anything before, at least as far as I can remember. I went all through school terrified at the prospect. Afraid they might send me home with a note saying they were mistaken about my magical abilities, sorry for the inconvenience. But I think maybe I have failed at my marriage. _

_You cannot understand how hard it is every day to wake up and not know who you are. You know who you were, but who you have become is a daily mystery. Never in a million years did I ever imagine waking up to find myself married to Professor Snape. I always thought that I would marry_

The words she had written next were crossed out, but Severus raised his head sharply to look at Ron. As if sensing the unsaid accusation, Ron wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer. Severus blinked but then read on.

_But never mind how my life was supposed to turn out. It is what it is. You're happily married, how do you get through the tough times? How do you resolve arguments? The fight we had was really one where neither one of us was at fault. Or if anyone is it's me, but I don't remember. Circumstances continue to test us. I don't remember being married, and so I don't remember how to be a wife. Please, any advice you can give would be welcome. _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Severus balked at the closing. Love? She should love him, only him.

"What did you tell her?" he asked sharply.

"I haven't written back yet. Her owl arrived right as we were getting into bed. But it all makes sense now with what you've said."

"Is it possible? What I heard?" Severus asked in a strangled voice.

"I doubt it. Hermione is a fighter. You read there that she's afraid of failure. That hasn't changed since she left school. Taking up with Percy would be failure in her mind," Ron explained. It made sense with the Hermione that Severus knew, but still he worried.

"What about Percy?"

"Well that I believe of him. He's a prat, and Hermione is exactly the kind of girl he would be attracted to. She's smart, she likes the rules, and she's high profile enough to suit his oversized ego." Severus' clenched his fists at this assessment. "But it sounds like she's genuinely upset about what may or may not have happened. You just have to go on from there," Ron continued.

Severus nodded. "Thank you Mr. Weasley. I'll let you get back to bed. I'm sorry I disturbed you," he said, standing. Ron remained seated, Luna asleep on his shoulder.

"You make her happy, but I'll never understand why she married you, Snape."

"Perhaps because you wouldn't," Severus said, thinking back to the crossed out name in Hermione's letter.

"Get out of my house," Ron replied tersely.

"Gladly." He stormed over to the fireplace and Flooed back to Hogwarts. Once there, he collapsed on the couch, falling into a deep drunken sleep.

When he awoke finally, his head ached and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. What was more distressing was that Hermione was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she had followed her letter, and gone to the Weasley's for advice. He hoped Mr. Weasley gave her the same assessment he had given Severus. Busying himself in his lab, he first made a hangover remedy and then set about to restock the infirmary with Pepper-up Potion. Over and over again, he rehearsed his apology in his head for when he saw her.

"Hermione, I apologize for my rash behavior yesterday. I shouldn't have…." He trailed off. He shouldn't have threatened Percy Weasley with loss of life and limb? The bloody twit deserved worse, at least he had only threatened and not acted.

'No,' thought Severus, 'if I have to apologize it will be for what I did wrong. And I was not at fault in that. I was protecting her honor as well as mine." He tried again as he stirred his potions.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I should not have been so angry…." But his anger was a righteous anger. He dared any man not to become enraged at the thought of another stealing his wife. No, he would not apologize for his anger. What then?

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I said things in anger that I didn't mean. I know you don't remember, but we can move past this. We have survived worse than Percy Weasley, we can survive this too." Yes, that was much better. He repeated it over and over in his head until it was burned into his brain. He would tell her the first moment that he saw her.

But she wasn't at lunch or dinner. He didn't see her until it was almost time to go to bed.

"There you are," he said, finding her in the bedroom. She was rummaging around in the bureau. When she heard him, she shut the drawer loudly and turned around to face him, looking surprised and unnerved to see him.

"Oh, hi."

"Where have you been?"

"I was at the Burrow…with Molly. I went to see Molly and ask her advice. Percy wasn't there, he had to work at the Ministry, only takes one day off for Christmas." Severus frowned at the mention of his possible usurper. "Molly told me that, not Percy. She talked about all of them, but mostly him. It was almost more than I could stand, but he's still on the outs with the family and it breaks her heart."

"He leaves destruction wherever he goes," Severus said sharply. He was having a hard time remembering his practiced apologies, and concentrated instead on changing into his pajamas without hexing something.

"Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said last night…it's just that…I'm sorry. Nothing happened, I promise," she rambled on, wringing her hands.

"I'm the one that should be apologizing," he said, taking her nervous hands and stilling them.

"No, you were right to be angry. You walked in and heard something terrible. I would have reacted the same way I suppose, if it had been me. I talked to Molly…not about Percy…but before Christmas…about marriage and being a wife."

He placed his finger at her mouth to silence her. She stilled, and he became very aware of touching her.

"You didn't ask to have your memories stolen. It was unfair of me to blame you last night for something over which you had no control," he said, pulling away from her.

"This wouldn't have happened if I had been trying harder."

"You've done your best. I understand it's difficult not knowing," he reassured her.

"No, I haven't. I've been sullen and withdrawn. I haven't been acting as a wife should," she said, sounding somewhat strangled. She slowly opened her robe to reveal one of her skimpier nightgowns. If he was expecting anything tonight, this was hardly it. He stared at her in surprise for a long, agonizingly silent moment.

"Hermione, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he finally said quietly. This would be his only exhortation to her in this regard. He desperately wanted her. He had been waiting for the moment when she stopped balking at his touches, when she would let him touch more than just her hand or her shoulder, and maybe even touch him back. Having her would reassure him that she was still his wife. Even without her memories, even if she had strayed, he would know that now she was his and he was hers.

"No, you were right. I think of you as my professor still. I need to think of you as my husband."

He nodded.

"Come here."

She looked nervous but stepped closer anyway. She possessed courage that had made her a credit to her house at Hogwart's Hogwarts and later to the Order; it was one of the many reasons he admired and loved her. Even so, he took care not to startle her. He only wished it didn't take so much of her resolve to let him touch her. Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms and held her close for a few moments. He buried his nose in her bushy hair, taking in the scent of her lavender shampoo. It had been so long since he had smelled her, had held her, or even been this close. He bent down and brushed his lips lightly against hers. She responded tentatively at first, but after years of kissing her, he knew what to do to encourage her.

Their lips were soon engaged in a familiar dance. He knew that she considered the routine of it sometimes unromantic, but Severus delighted in knowing that he knew exactly how to please her and that she knew how to please him. In his mind, there was nothing romantic in the awkward fumblings of new lovers.

He was an expert potions Potions master and had always appreciated the fine and subtle art of potion making. It took both practice and skill to make a difficult potion, but when done right, it was a beautiful thing to behold. It was one of the main reasons he consented to making the Wolfsbane for Lupin; not that he wanted to help him, but that he relished the process of making the potion.

Sex for him was the same; so what if the steps were the same every time as long if they were expertly and beautifully done. Of course, being a Potions master meant that he knew lots of different potions and could do them all equally well. They had had seven years and lots of practice. He only hoped they would have more.

Slowly he moved them back towards the bed. He continued to kiss her softly as he lowered her down, half covering her body with his. Maybe it was the sudden change of position or the weight of him on her, but she stopped and looked at him nervously. He peered deep into her eyes and brushed the hair away from her face. He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she turned away and he caught her cheek instead. Dragging his lips over to ear, he whispered softly.

"Your mind may not remember me, Hermione, but your body does."

He could feel her shiver slightly at the meaning of his words and then as he began to nibble gently at her earlobe the way she liked. She pushed him off of her and sat up quickly. He rolled over and tried to reach for her hand, to reassure her but she stood up and walked a few paces away, out of reach. He sat up on the edge of the bed and regarded her, watching as her hands trembled almost unnoticeably as she struggled to regulate her breathing. They were only a few feet apart but it felt like a gaping chasm—an impossible distance to cross.

"Hermione, I…"

"I'm sorry."

He watched as she fled the room, helpless to stop her. Pounding his fists into the mattress, he let out a growl of frustration. He knew she wasn't prepared to make this step, but he had forced her anyway. Somehow, she had been convinced that the way to prove to him that nothing had happened between her and Percy was to jump into bed with him before she was ready. He should have known better. He should have had more control, but when she had opened her robe all he could think of was how long it had been since he had held her, how agonizing it had been not knowing if she would ever love him again.

Contemplating going after her, he decided it would be best to give her some space. She would return when she was ready. At least he hoped so. Stumbling to the bathroom, he swigged some Dreamless Sleep Potion in an effort to stem the inevitable dreams of life without her—dreams that appeared all the more likely in the last forty-eight hours. Nothing had gone as he had planned.

He hoped that she would return later that night, that he would awake and he would find her lying in the bed next to him. But the next morning her side of the bed lay undisturbed and cold. Frantically, he searched the castle, asking every portrait, student, and teacher if they had seen her. But no one had. He couldn't sit and do nothing, he had done that once before and while he sat ensconced in his rooms someone had taken and violated his wife, stripping her of her memory. It was his fault that she was like this, if only he had done something to prevent it.

He finally found her in the forbidden forest and he let out a sigh of relief to find her safe even if she was babbling to a tree branch.

"Hermione," he said sharply, hoping to draw her attention away from the tree. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, trying to pull her towards the castle but she refused to budge.

"I saw a unicorn," she told the tree, "but it ran away from me. They've never been afraid before. I don't see what the difference is."

"The difference is now you are married," he said impatiently, pulling at her again. It was cold and night was falling. He didn't want to be in the forest any longer than he had too.

"It was white like the snow. I tried to pet it, . I took some sugar like Hagrid showed us in class but it ran away." She nervously picked at the pocket of her robes, looking up expectantly as if waiting a response from the branch.

"Hermione, please," he pleaded.

"Why did it run away?" she asked finally turning from the tree to him. Before he could answer, he heard the pounding of hooves approaching. He let go of her, turning to see two centaurs entering the clearing where they stood.

"You have trespassed, human," a light tawny one with long dirty blond hair accused him.

"I know and I apologize," he started.

"We care nothing for your apologies," the second centaur spat. He was darker than the first with a shiny black coat and mane.

"I was just looking for my wife. She's not well," he explained, pointing back at Hermione who had started her conversation with the tree again.

She was getting more and more agitated and he needed to get her back to the castle as quickly as possible. Dealing with irritable and possessive centaurs was the last thing he needed at the moment. He would try to talk his way out of the forest, but he fingered the wand in his pocket just in case.

"What is wrong with her?" the first centaur asked.

"She is unwell in the mind. Please, I need to get her help as soon as possible." He almost snapped at their being an unnecessary and inconvenient delay but he knew that though his usual intimidating manner worked with witches and wizards, it would have the opposite effect here.

"Go, but we will not be so forgiving next time," the tawny one said. He turned and grabbed Hermione, dragging her along as quickly as he could. He could hear the centaurs behind him arguing about whether or not they should have let them go and he didn't want to be anywhere near them if the darker one succeeded in changing the other's mind.

"Professor, please you're hurting me," Hermione whined, but he didn't let go or slow down until they reached the edge of the forest. Stopping abruptly, he wheeled her around to face him.

"Why did you leave the castle without telling me?" he demanded. He felt somewhat sorry for his harsh tone when her eyes welled up with tears. She looked pathetic. Her robes were torn, no doubt in her escapade through the forest and she had dried leaves sticking out of her bushy hair.

"I wanted to see the unicorns, but they ran away. Why? Why did they run away? I did everything right." ," She she started babbling once more. With a huge sigh, he gave up and led her to the castle and down to the dungeons.

"Here put these on," he told her once they were in the bedroom, her pajamas in his outstretched hand. She took them, regarding them suspiciously.

"Don't you think I should return to my dormitory, Professor?" she asked.

"No, I think you should put your pajamas on and get in bed NOW," !" he He pointed at their bed, his patience thinning.

He left the room in search of the potion Pomfrey had recommended for what she had termed "relapses." He didn't understand how someone could have a relapse when she had never fully recovered in the first place.

Grabbing the vial of purple liquid, he returned to their room with the potion and a cup of tea. She lay in the bed, on his side, he noted, looking nervous.

"Drink this," he ordered her after adding the potion to the tea.

"What is it?"

"Something to help you sleep," he said, sitting on the bed next to her. She took a tentative sip, grimacing at the flavor.

"Why did the unicorn run away?" she asked again. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Because you're not a virgin anymore, Hermione. Surely you remember that from Hagrid's lessons." He tried to be patient, but it was so hard. He wanted his wife back.

"Of course I am!" she exclaimed. "I think I would remember something like that!"

"Believe me," he said, placing one hand over hers. He tried not to notice at how she flinched at his touch. "Drink your tea."

She drained her glass and when she finished, he took the cup from her, pulled the blankets up and tucked her in. Tucked into bed like this, she looked more like the student she believed herself still to be rather than his wife of seven years. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. She caught his hand as he stood back up, surprising him. It was the first time she had touched him of her own volition since they had found her that fateful morning.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she whispered. And in that moment he saw something in her eyes that he recognized. He saw his Hermione, the woman that he had married, made a life with, who he loved. But even as he glimpsed it, she closed her eyes and he could see that she was already asleep.

Why was she apologizing? For losing her memory and leaving him in agony like this? Or because she really had slept with Percy? For the first time since she returned, he wondered if he wanted her to regain what she had lost. Maybe "his Hermione" had been unhappy and discontented enough to sleep with a Weasley, and not even one of the nicer ones, but Percy the Prat. What if she had been planning on leaving him, but then met with whoever had done this to her? This might be their chance for a new start.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to my beta Larilee. If you haven't read her Great Plans or The Day Emmeline Vance Died then you should. Leave her a review while you're at it. Speaking of reviews, thanks to everyone who has left one thus far. You guys are great!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks to my beta Larilee.

**Chapter Nine**

Severus spent the next several days mulling over their search for her attackers. He was torn between strangling them with his bare hands and buying them a drink for the favor they had unwittingly bestowed upon him. Hermione had mentioned visiting the orphanage that Narcissa sent her money to, but the subject had not come up again since Christmas. The valiant crusade had turned into a slightly disinterested query for the moment.

Instead, the couple spent the rest of the holiday break working in the lab. The atmosphere was heavy and tense at first, both being overly solicitous of the other, but after a few days, things calmed down and they were both able to relax. He even allowed her to assist him in his research.

"Remind me again what we're researching," Hermione said one afternoon two days before New Years.

"I want to create a better tasting flu remedy."

"Right," she said with a smirk.

"What? Is there something wrong with that?" he asked irritably.

"Not at all. I just thought you might be trying to brew something more…how do I say it…more important, something like a Cruciatus remedy."

"There is no such thing. It would be a waste of time now that the war is won and hardly anyone is subjected to that particular curse. The flu, on the other hand, runs rampant every winter. Wizards and witches alike would pay quite a bit extra for something a little better tasting than Flaxen's Flu Liquid Remedy." She wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of the foul-tasting brew. "I see you understand my point."

"I suppose, though it won't win you an Order of Merlin, First Class."

"Good thing I already have one then," he retorted.

"So it's all about money then?"

"No, it's about making the world a better place. If that just happens to make me a rich man then who am I to complain," he answered. She smiled and suggested a little more vanilla extract.

Their relationship steadily improving, Severus noted that though she talked more freely than she had previously, she was still hesitant to touch him or allow herself to be touched by him. Not wanting a repeat of their disastrous attempt at physical contact before, he plotted ways to get her to touch him. It would have to be something unexpected that prompted her.

An idea came to him in the lab as she almost added the wrong ingredients to her cauldron.

"No!" he said, grabbing her by the wrist.

"What?" she asked exasperated, pulling her arm out of his grip.b

"You'll blow your arm off if you add that just now."

"Oh," she said, looking sheepish. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, turning back to his work with a small smile, an idea suddenly occurring to him. All he would have to do is create a potions accident. She would be so anxious to make sure that he was all right that she wouldn't notice that she was touching him, not until it was too late. He imagined her hands caressing him, soothing away his pain. It would be a hard job, but in the end, it would be worth it. But he would have to wait until classes began again for it to be plausible.

His restraint to enact his plan lasted him only until the second day of class. As the last of his students hurried from his classroom, he grabbed a cauldron and a random variety of ingredient bottles. It couldn't be too hard to create a believable size explosion; his students managed it most days with spectacular results. He tried hard to remember what Mr. Garner had added to his potion the other day that had nearly blown his head clean off.

Tossing a few things together, he lit the flame and stood over the cauldron, peering in. The effect was almost instantaneous. He had no time to even flinch before his face was aflame. Not only had the concoction erupted, but the cauldron itself had shattered, the sharp remnants tearing into his skin. He knew that he should probably go to Pomfrey if he wanted to come through this without any nasty scars, but he stuck resolutely to his plan and went stumbled as best he could with his limited vision back to their rooms.

"What happened?" she exclaimed as he burst through the door.

"A cauldron exploded," he said, wincing. He was starting to doubt the validity of his plan; his face really hurt. Hermione led him into the bathroom, her familiar clicking reassuring him.

"Do you know what they put in it to make it explode?" He wasn't sure exactly, having just thrown together what he knew to be volatile ingredients. Instead of answering, he took the opportunity to moan in pain while she wiped the disastrous potion from his face.

"Oh sorry," she apologized, going gentler. "It must have been pretty spectacular. I suppose someone will be serving detention with Filch for the rest of the year."

"Too right," he said in his most grumpy voice despite the warm, safe feeling that filled his chest. It anesthetized even the burning pain of his facial wounds as he watched his wife buzz around him, murmuring Healing Spells, and sponging his cuts. He noticed that her hands lingered even as she finished, tracing the curve of his nose, the line of his cheekbones. Covering his hand with hers, he trapped it against his cheek.

"Thank you," he said softly, both to her and to whatever god had allowed his plan to work.

"It's no trouble," she said, blushing. He had forgotten how much she used to blush around him. The rosy color only added to her loveliness, but it was a mixed blessing, indicating her discomfort and unease around him. He released her hand, and she continued her ministrations or at least in her pretense. A few more "here nows" and a last '"this might sting a bit" and she stepped away from him.

"All done," she pronounced. "Feel better?"

"It still smarts," he admitted, running his hands over his face.

"You'll probably have a nasty headache tonight and into tomorrow. You go lie down and I'll bring you a pain-reliever potion."

He nodded, making his way to the bedroom. She was right, his head was starting to tense. It would be a throb before long, but it was worth it. For the first time she had touched him of her own accord. He had succeeded in stirring feeling in her for his well-being. Lying down, he clenched shut his eyes and reminded himself of this over and over.

"Here you go," she said, returning to his side. She offered him a goblet. He sniffed at it.

"I can't drink this," he said irritably, the throbbing in his head starting to overtake his inner mantra.

"Why not?"

"It has belladonna in it."

"Which is well known for its pain relieving properties," she said, starting to sound irritable herself.

"And I'm allergic," he snapped.

"Oh." She frowned in consternation, and turned to leave. She returned a few minutes later with a new potion.

"Here," she said, handing it to him. "No belladonna, but it has scopolia. Not as fast acting but still effective."

He sniffed again, frowning. "You always put it in a cup of tea for me."

She didn't say anything but took back the cup, her lips pressed into a thin line, and left the room again. It wasn't until he heard her clinking around with the tea things that he remembered something else.

"Peppermint tea! Regular tea diminishes its efficacy!" he yelled, wincing at the responding shout of frustration. Minutes later, she stormed back in and shoved a steaming mug of peppermint tea into his hands.

"Perfect," he declared after a tentative first sip. "Thank you." His approval appeared to have appeased her, and he patted the edge of the bed, motioning for her to sit.

"Are you always this difficult?" she asked.

"I'll have you know that you are a worse patient than I am."

"I don't believe you," she scoffed.

"Then let me enlighten you."

_She hadn't shown up the night before and Severus hadn't heard anything from her all day. It was almost 9:00 now and still no sign of her. He didn't want to worry about her. He wanted to sit and mark his essays and work on his potions without thinking about her, but he couldn't help but wonder where she was. They had work to do! His case was coming before the Wizengamot in just under a week. When he could take it no more, he finally grabbed some Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace._

_Arriving in her flat, he took a moment to look around. He had never been here before. She had always come to Hogwarts. It was a small apartment, but it was nicely furnished with modern décor, and he could see that she stayed close to her Muggle roots with several devices that were decidedly foreign to him. But he wasn't here to scrutinize her living arrangements. There was research to be done, arguments to be written, and witnesses to interview. Where was she?_

_"Miss Granger?" he called out, whipping out his wand, in case there was anyone unfriendly was lurking about. He had thought perhaps she had changed her mind about helping him, but he suddenly wondered if there had been some sort of foul play._

_"In here," he heard her moan. He found her lying on the floor in the bathroom._

_"What are you doing there?" he asked sharply._

_"Throwing up all night. Easier to just stay here," she mumbled. She did look terrible. Her face was deathly white, her eyes were glazed over, and she smelled even worse._

_"You slept here?" She nodded. He cast a quick Cleansing Charm over her and then an Easy Air Freshening Spell._

"Budge over," she said, pushing at him. He scooted towards the middle of the bed while she settled facing him, her knees drawn up to her chin. "An Air Freshening Spell?"

"Very handy in a Potions classroom, I assure you." She nodded. "But as I was saying…"

_Picking her up under her arms, he half-carried, half-dragged her down the short hall to the bedroom. _

_"What are your symptoms?" he asked._

_"I think I had a bad curry," she said weakly. He felt her forehead. She was clammy but not hot._

_"There's no cure for food poisoning, but I can make you a potion to quell the nausea. Do you have basic potion supplies?"_

_"In the kitchen."_

_Twenty minutes later, he returned with the potion in hand. But her gratitude at helping her back to bed had dissipated the moment she smelled the concoction._

_"Drink it, Miss Granger."_

_"No."_

_"It will make you feel better," he said with a strained voice._

_"I'd rather be sick," she said stubbornly, turning her nose away. It was rather foul smelling, and it tasted even worse, but it was the best stomach potion there was. She was wearing his patience thin. He needed her to help him, and she couldn't very well do that if she was too weak to make it to her own bed. _

_"You can drink it on your own accord or I can force it down your throat, the choice is yours." He grabbed her by the shoulder, pressing her back into the headboard and holding the cup to her lips._

_"You wouldn't dare," she protested, turning back to glare at him._

_"Do not forget who you are dealing with." She continued to glare at him; he stared back at her ruthlessly. _

_"Fine!" she said after several moments, taking the potion from him so vehemently that some of it sloshed over, landing on him. He brushed at the droplets on his robes, watching closely to make sure she finished the whole thing. She did, but not without a dramatic pucker of her lips._

_"Disgusting!" she exclaimed, handing back the cup._

_"Indeed. But you'll be thanking me when you no longer feel the need to purge your stomach every ten minutes. I made some soup as well. You will need to replenish the nutrients that you lost." She nodded, lying back on her pillow, her eyes closing. He held back the urge to sigh. It was going to be difficult to get her to eat before she slept, but if he wanted his only advocate back before the trial then he would have to persevere._

_"Come on, Miss Granger. You're almost finished," he prompted her a half hour later. She had fallen asleep while he brought her dinner, and it was taking an inconsiderable amount of time to convince her to eat all of it. _

_He thought about the pile of essays that were sitting on his desk and wondered why he had come looking for her in the first place. It had been the quietest week yet in the last couple of months. He should have taken advantage of her absence. But looking over at her, as she weakly spooned the chicken broth into her mouth, he realized that he had become accustomed to her presence. It had seemed awkward _not_ having her there in the evenings, and seeing her incapacitated like this inspired a desire to protect and care for her. He had almost panicked to find her lying in the bathroom. _

_It was gratitude, he told himself. She was helping him and so he felt obliged to help her. It was nothing more than an obligation. _

"You were falling for me even then," she said with a small smile.

"Are you going to continue interrupting me?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Sorry, go ahead."

"_Thank you," she said so softly that he almost missed it._

"_For what?"_

"_The potion and the soup. I'm feeling much better." Her voice was still weak, and he could tell that sleep was not far off._

"_It is in my best interest for you to be well, Miss Granger. The trial is quickly approaching," he said. The words were what one might normally expect from him but the habitual vitriol was missing. And he found his hand, of its own accord, reaching out and tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, and he pulled his hand back abruptly._

"_I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes closed._

"_Yes. But I will come here. You will stay in bed and recover," he told her in his best teacher voice. "Do you hear me?" It looked as though she had succumbed to sleep already, but she nodded her head._

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Good night then."_

"I don't believe you," she said when he finished. "You are the worst patient, not me." She stretched her legs out beside him, and he couldn't resist resting his one hand on her robe-covered calf.

"I could provide many more examples if you need further convincing," he assured her, smirking at her indignant look.

"That won't be necessary," she said, ignoring his bait. "Are you feeling any better? Do you want some more tea?"

His head still pounded, but he didn't want tea. He wondered if he should dare to ask…but wasn't that why he had exploded that cauldron in the first place. Taking a breath, he said, "No tea. But there is something you could do."

She looked at him expectantly, almost eagerly. That was what he loved about her. Despite his goading, she was still willing to put forth her best effort to heal and comfort him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You always say a kiss will make things better." She colored, looking away. But he took heart in the fact that she didn't protest, didn't say no outright.

"My mother used to kiss my bumps and scratches as a kid," she muttered.

"I know."

"Will it really make you feel better? There's nothing else?" He shook his head. He could see her steeling herself.

"Well, then…" She crawled up the bed next to him, kneeling at his side. She brushed aside a lock of his hair, her eyes surveying his face with a determined intensity. "You were cut here." She leaned down and brushed her lips against his temple. "And you had quite a nasty gash here, might leave a mark if you're not careful." Her fingers traced along his cheekbone before kissing him there too. His breath caught in his throat, paralyzed by her gentleness. It struck him that she had no idea the power she held over him.

"And here, and here," she said, pecking him along his jaw and chin. She was leaning over him, one hand steadying her, the other cupping his face. Her eyes slowly moved up to meet his. The air almost crackled between them. Did she too feel the magic that flowed between them?

"Anywhere else?" she asked. He nodded, pointing a finger to his mouth.

"I thought as much," she said, smiling ruefully. For a moment, he thought she might say something sarcastic, and leave it at that. But in the next second, her lips had pressed against his and he lost the will to think. It was a chaste kiss, but full of promise. Of its own volition, his hand moved from his side to grab hold of her by the waist, its sudden movement bringing Hermione back to her senses. She pulled away just slightly, smirking at him.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," he replied.

"I bet," she said, moving to get up. But he gripped her waist, holding her in place.

"You don't feel the magic between us, Hermione?"

"I know what you did, you sneaky Slytherin," she said, answering his question with only a slight nod. She leaned down again, meeting his eyes in a steely stare. He might have been convinced of her ire if he hadn't noticed her lips quirking in her attempt not to smile.

"And what is that?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"If you wanted to kiss me you could have just asked. There was no need to blow your face off."

He smiled. That was his girl. While she had been cleaning him up, her mind had been fast at work, trying to analyze what mix of ingredients would have caused such a disaster. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that no real potion would have combined to create such a result.

"Is that so?" She nodded. "Then may I kiss you, Hermione?" She leaned down again in response, her kiss more wanton this time. His head lifted from the pillow as she pulled away from him, not wanting it to end. But she pushed him back down with a smile.

"You need to rest," she said gently but firmly. He grunted his disagreement, but she had barely made it to the door before sleep overcame him. Between the potion and dreams of her kisses, he slept very well that night.

* * *

A few days later, Severus sat in his office reading the book Hermione had given him for Christmas, searching for the perfect new insult to use on his third-year exams, when Potter came striding through his office door with nary a knock.

"What do you want?" he snarled. He was never happy to see Harry.

"Ron mentioned that you came to see him," Harry said with a smirk. Severus glared at him. He should have known better than to trust his secrets with Ron Weasley. He was surprised it hadn't shown up in the _Quibbler_. There would be no more gathering of information while drunk.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Mister," he said. Why the little…! Severus instinctively reached for his wand, but the glint in Harry's eye told him that this was the very reaction he wanted. The bootless idle-headed scut! He would give in for now. Once he had the information, he may or may not tear him limb from limb, he decided.

"What do you want, _Mr_. Potter?" he said, his anger barely reigned in.

"I thought you might like to know that Hermione came to see me a few months before she disappeared. She told me that Percy had come onto her at Ron's birthday party. Nothing happened other than that Hermione threatened to hex him into next Tuesday. Apparently, he didn't take the rejection well. I think he might have been harassing her."

"Why did Mr. Weasley fail to mention this?" Severus asked. This would have saved him a lot of heartache. And all the time he had lost looking for who had done this to her, thinking they might have done him a favor. He realized his selfish and jealous nature had hurt her again. He truly did not deserve Hermione as his wife.

"Because Percy is Ron's brother and she didn't want to speak badly about him to Ron. She never told him about it," Potter explained.

"It seems to me that he doesn't think much of his brother to begin with."

"You're right, but Hermione would have been sensitive about either way. What does it matter in the end? Now you know."

"Because I have wasted precious time that should have been spent looking for the miscreant who did this to her," he snapped.

"You don't need much of an excuse not to look, Snape." Severus narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. Harry stared back at him ruthlessly. This was not the time. No matter how much it pained him to admit it, he needed Potter -- alive.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked suspiciously. He would have thought that Potter would like to watch him suffer.

"I didn't want Hermione to suffer because you thought she had cheated on you.

"Have you found out anything more about Malfoy?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "With Hermione gone, my workload has gone up. I haven't had much time to devote to it. Though I did hear some rumors of a sighting in Aruba."

"Aruba? I thought the orphanage Narcissa donated to was in Poland?"

"That's where the money goes, but it's possible that the orphanage is just the first step of many. I'm trying to convince the Ministry to send me over there to investigate."

"Can't afford a Caribbean vacation on your own Potter? What happened to all that gold Black left you?" Severus said with a sneer. Harry's knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk.

"This is for Hermione."

"Yes, remember that when you are lying on the beach. I want to know the moment you have any new information. Are we understood?"

"The same goes for you," Harry said. Severus nodded curtly and watched as Potter turned on his heel and left.

Sitting back, his Shakespearean insults forgotten for the moment, Severus reflected on what Potter had told him. So Percy had tried to seduce Hermione but had failed. He didn't know which was worse, an adulterous affair or a spurned would-be lover. Could Percy be responsible? Severus had never had much respect for the boy, but he didn't know if he was capable of kidnapping, mind tampering, and seduction. It all seemed much too intricate for a person who lived life by such a set of rigid rules.

But then again, he had proven before that he would forsake family and pretty much anything else in order to achieve his high aims. He already had an elevated position in the Ministry of Magic, now all he needed in his bid for Minister was a high-profile wife. The fobbing dread-bolted horn-beast! Severus decided that perhaps another chat with Mr. Percy Weasley was in order. First, however, he and Hermione had an orphanage to visit.

* * *

A/N: I'll admit that I took part of the kissing scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark, but I couldn't help myself. The Shakespearean insults came from a fun website. You too can be insulted by visiting http /www. pangloss. com/seidel/Shaker/; just remember to take out the spaces. And don't forget to review because as my name suggests I suffer from great vanity. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Hermione had nodded and smiled at Severus when he mentioned that they had yet to follow her suggestion and visit the orphanage where Narcissa had been sending her money.

"I wasn't sure you still wanted to," she admitted.

"We will find who did this to you. Whatever spell they used might be the key to unlocking your memory," he said. And when they had found out that, then he would make sure they died a painful and horrible death, but he kept that part to himself. He wanted Hermione to know that he would do anything to protect her, but he didn't think she would look fondly on any idea that included more violence than was absolutely warranted, especially not in her name. But that was besides the point. They first had to locate the miscreants. He wasn't entirely convinced it was Malfoy who had done this to her, but if she had come close to finding him and bringing him to justice then she was lucky she walked away at all. Both Lucius and Draco were known for their brutality.

Severus arranged for a Portkey that would take them to the gate right outside.

"Ready?" he asked, holding out an empty glass bottle.

"Yes," she said. He certainly hoped so. Up until this point, she had contributed only with her research. He sincerely hoped that this would not be too much stress for her. He didn't want to return early because she suddenly couldn't remember her name.

He nodded, and she took hold of the bottle. He felt the familiar pull at his navel and in the next moment, they were standing outside a tall wrought iron gate. Hermione pushed it open, cringing at the creak of rusty metal on rusty metal. They walked several minutes before anything came into view.

The orphanage, in Severus's opinion, was terrifying--a large Victorian home which creaked and swayed in the wind, reminding him of the Shrieking Shack. Small children, dressed in threadbare clothes ran shrieking through the yard while a large furry dog sat on the porch overseeing the mayhem. Hermione and Severus picked their way through the throng of children who had stopped to watch them make their way to the door. Upon reaching the porch, the dog let out a menacing growl until Hermione explained that they were there to speak to the matron.

The inside of the house was no better, dark hallways crowded with more children and a smell Severus tried hard not to place.

"This is horrible," he heard Hermione whisper. He placed a firm hand at her back to guide her.

"Stay focused on the task at hand," he said softly, satisfied to see her nod.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Snape, a pleasure to see you," a wiry woman with graying hair said, meeting them halfway down the hall. She reminded Severus of Sybill Trelawney with her many gold and silver bangles. The only thing that she was missing were the large glasses.

"It's Professor and Mrs. Snape actually," Hermione corrected, holding out her hand.

"Of course. My name is Estrilda Wondergood. Won't you come into my office," she said, ushering them through the door she had just exited. The office was much nicer than anything they had seen thus far with thick oriental rugs, bright cheery lamps, and a large mahogany desk.

"What brings you here today?" Ms. Wondergood asked, motioning them to sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"We heard of your establishment through a friend of ours...Narcissa Malfoy to be exact," Hermione began.

"Ah yes, Mrs. Malfoy is one of our biggest contributors. Are you looking to adopt?" Hermione began to answer but Severus cut her off.

"My wife is unable to have children, and both our professions preclude a stable home for a child. But it would ease the ache in her heart if she could volunteer some of her time." Ms. Wondergood's smile drooped a bit as the prospect of more money from the rich friends of the Malfoys faded.

"Your time? Well certainly, that might be arranged. There are, of course, safety regulations and a mountain of paperwork to be taken care of; we can't leave the children with just anyone, you understand. But I'm sure with the right words to the right people that shouldn't be a problem at all," she simpered, her smile brightening once again.

"How much?" Severus asked sharply. Ms. Wondergood looked shocked and slightly appalled that Severus would disturb her delicate sensibilities by mentioning money in front of her.

"Well, there are fees involved of course in securing the right authorization. It's what you have to put up these days."

"Indeed," he said dryly. "How much?"

"Two thousand galleons," she said quickly.

"What?" Hermione gasped. Severus reached over and placed his hand on her knee to silence her. Luckily, she took the hint.

"Fine. Whatever it takes," he purred, noticing with satisfaction at how Wondergood's smile drooped once more when she realized she could have and should have asked for more.

"May we have a tour?" Hermione asked, still trying to hide her disgust at what had just transpired.

"Certainly."

Ms. Wondergood ushered them from the room back into the dark hallway. She showed them to several dirty rooms filled with unmade beds and disheveled children. Rattling on, she complained about the prices of everything, from food to medicine to school supplies, but Severus made a concerted effort to drown her out. Instead, he concentrated on Hermione who was becoming more and more agitated the more they saw. He held her hand, rubbing calming circles in her palm, but it appeared not to work as it had so many times in the past. She let go as a small child ran up to her, grabbing her round the legs.

"Will you take me home with you?" the small urchin asked. Severus couldn't distinguish if it were a boy or a girl, but he looked at Hermione scornfully as she scooped it up in her arms. She had no idea where the child had been. It could be carrying diseases!

"Not today, sweet pea, but I want to come back for a visit. Would you like that?" The child nodded so enthusiastically that Severus was afraid its head might pop off. Hermione giggled.

"Good. We'll play all sorts of games. What do you think?"

"Yes! You promise?" Its excited look quickly changed to suspicious.

"I promise," Hermione said, leaning over and kissing its cheek before setting it down. For one moment, it looked as though it might try to elicit a similar promise from Severus, but he gave it a pointed stare and it scurried off into the dark hallway instead.

"So it's not just Hogwarts students that you detest," she said to him, coming back to stand next to him. Wondergood had left them behind, still rattling on about the prices of things and not noticing that they had stopped following her.

"I don't discriminate between age, race, or nationality. I have a universal dislike for children," he told her, taking her hand in his again and leading her through the room.

"At least you're consistent," she muttered, following him. But he felt certain that she tried to talk, kiss, or hug every child they came across before they left just to spite him. Two excruciatingly long hours later, they walked back across the lawn, past the shaggy baby-sitter and out the gate to Apparate home.

"That's horrible!" she ranted as they walked back to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. "It's despicable! She shouldn't be allowed to run a place like that! All two thousand of those galleons are going straight into her pocket..."

He let her vent for a while, amused like he always was at her vehemence, remembering times when it was both directed at him and for him.

"After we have determined whether or not she knows anything about Draco then I'll send some well-placed owls to both the proper authorities as well as some past associates."

"You mean?"

"Whatever it takes, Hermione. Surely you agree that those children deserve better." She nodded, falling silent; no doubt thinking about the inattention and lonely existence the orphans faced every day. Severus did agree with her on that point. He knew what it was like to be unloved, to grow up neglected. The Dark Lord had come from just such a place and look how he had turned out. Even if this turned out to be another dead end, Severus was determined to make sure that the two thousand galleons he had promised would go to making those children's lives better and not to buy more bangles for Estrilda Wondergood.

Hermione was silent all their way back to the castle. Her ranting apparently finished, she had little left to say. Severus could tell that she was pondering something, turning it over and over in her head, and he contemplated whether he should ask what it was or wait for her to tell him. It turned out he didn't have to wait; she asked as he was putting away his cloak.

"Is it true?" she asked. He looked at her puzzled, not understanding the question. "Can I really not have children?"

He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"Oh." She bit her lip, trying hard to dam the flood of tears. He saw one escape, making an iridescent track down her cheek. She turned away to hide the rest. Approaching her slowly, he placed his hands on her arms, rubbing up and down lightly.

"Your war injuries prevent you from carrying a child to term," he said quietly. She choked back a sob. His heart nearly burst at the sound of it. Would she have to relive every heartbreak? Would they never reach their happier memories? She turned to face him, and instinctively he put his arms around her, pulling her close.

"So we've tried?" He nodded even though it was only half the truth. They hadn't planned on her being pregnant. It had surprised them both and had unsettled him. He wasn't cut out to be a husband, let alone a father. His first thought when she told him the news was to be relieved, but then a second feeling crept in. A sadness enveloped him, and not just because Hermione had lost the bright look in her eyes for months after, but because he felt a genuine opportunity had been lost. A child could have been his redemption, his chance to prove to the world that he could produce something good.

"It's better this way. You had a dangerous career and I would be a terrible father." She stifled a giggle. "So you agree?"

"You wouldn't be _terrible."_

Your continued ability to see the best in people always amazes me, but you have to admit I wouldn't be the best," he said, taking his thumb and brushing away her tears.

"Not the best perhaps, but they always say its different when they're your own." He took hold of her hand that was fisted in his robes, pulling it up and kissing her knuckles lightly.

"Your continued confidence means the world to me." She blushed and looked away. And then inspiration hit. There was no reason that they stay here and dwell on unhappy events.

"Follow me," he said, summoning her cloak. He placed it on her shoulders. Shrugging his on, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see." He led her down by the greenhouses. Reaching a tall stone wall, he tapped three times with his wand an intricate pattern. The stones began to move, rearranging themselves until a doorway appeared. They followed a path to a small clearing where he conjured them a blanket, a basket of sandwiches, and two goblets of steaming hot cider.

"This is beautiful. I had no idea that this was here," she said. She turned around, taking in the plants that survived even in the winter.

"You didn't? You're the one that showed it to me. I suppose you discovered it sometime after your sixth year," he said, sitting down and motioning for her to do the same. She joined him on the blanket, her lips upturned in one of her glorious smiles.

"There are so many plants and flowers for the end of January," she commented.

"It's magically insulated like one of the greenhouses. But it's much wilder and freer here since no students come in here. I'm not sure even Pomona knows about its existence."

"Thank you for bringing me," she said quieter, her hand snaking over and covering his. He turned his up, giving it a squeeze, before letting go and handing her a sandwich.

"You seemed to need some cheering up," he said, watching her take a large bite.

She swallowed hard. "I did after the orphanage today."

"You reminded me of the old Hermione back there today," he said, taking a sip of his cider.

"I did?" she asked looking at him puzzled.

"I suspect you have taken up a new cause today. Poor, hopeless, orphans will now have to suffer your attentions as you try and convince them that they have at least one person in the world that loves them."

"I do not take up causes, as you put it," she said indignantly, ripping into her sandwich.

"Yes you do--SPEW, me, and now the orphans," he said with mock disdain. She stopped chewing, staring at him.

"You?" she said after she finally swallowed.

"Haven't you been listening when I've been telling you the story of how we came together?"

"Yes of course I have, it's just that...you're not a cause. And it was S.P.E.W. by the way," she said turning her nose up. He snorted at her. And then he had an idea. He didn't have to tell her their story; she could see it herself. Hadn't he watched happier moments in their marriage when they had fought over Christmas?

"We could use the Pensieve," he offered, wondering why he had not thought of this possibility before. But she shook her head violently.

"No."

"You don't think it would be easier?"

"Have you ever watched yourself in a Pensieve for a memory you didn't have?" He shook his head. "It's a very unsettling feeling, like watching a movie of your life except it's the first time you've seen it."

"You've tried it?"

"With Harry and Ron. Besides, I like hearing you tell me. You're a natural storyteller. No, really," she said, noticing his surprise. "I always loved listening to you lecture even about the most mundane things."

"So you thought I was boring?" he teased, secretly pleased to learn that she still found him intriguing.

"No, I thought you were mean, but you could give me the shivers with just a whisper." He sidled up closer to her, his nose grazing her cheek, his mouth at her ear.

"Shall I continue where I left off?" he breathed. She did in fact shiver, nodding her approval.

_She had recovered fully from her illness by the time the trial came around, something for which Severus was very grateful, although he remained suspicious._

_"Are you sure someone didn't poison you," he asked as she went over their strategy the night before. She looked up at him in surprise._

_"Poison? Have you lived so long as a spy that you see intrigues everywhere?" she asked sadly. She reached over and covered his hand with hers. "It was just a bad curry, Snape."_

_"Perhaps someone is trying to convince you not to work to help me," he said grumpy at her patronizing tone, wrenching his hand from her grasp. She had laughed off his concern, and he felt foolish for even bringing it up. It made him sound as if he cared for her well-being, which was decidedly untrue outside of how it affected him and this trial. _

_But the truth was that he was becoming accustomed to her presence in his life. He didn't like it, no not that, but he was used to her waiting for him in his chambers each evening. But the trial started tomorrow and he would soon be in Azkaban or back at Hogwarts, alone either way. The prospect frightened him more than a little. However, he concentrated on the impending rather than on the hopeless. _

"Did someone poison me?" Hermione asked, interrupting. "Considering what has happened since."

"I don't know. Looking back, it's possible. But there's no way to tell now," he told her. He moved the arm that was stretched out behind her to lightly touch her at her waist. She responded by moving back into his embrace, leaning into his chest.

"But what happened at the trial?" she asked, twisting her head around.

"As I was saying…"

_The day of the trial, Severus parted ways with Hermione in the foyer of the Ministry. She hurried down to organize her papers and such, while he was escorted by Ministry guards. He was thankful every day that they had released him on his own recognizance and had not imprisoned him in Azkaban while awaited trial. Entering the courtroom, he tried to ignore the crowds of people that made up the gallery or the eyes of the judges as they stared down at him from their elevated positions. Instead, he focused on getting to his chair without tripping. _

_Sitting down, the chains on the chair rattled ominously but stayed where they were. He breathed in and out deeply, trying hard to regulate his breathing. Concentrating on Hermione, he blocked out the crowd, the judges, and even the chair with its chains threatening to imprison him at a moments notice. _

_She was truly magnificent. He hadn't realized just how much until this moment as he watched her present his defense. She called the Weasleys and Lupin as witnesses. She questioned Ollivander about the possibility of his wand being stolen and then replaced._

_"I suppose it's possible," the wrinkled old wandmaker admitted. "But someone else's wand wouldn't work as well. Each wand is specific to each witch or wizard."_

_"Yes, but it's possible to cast spells with another wand, is it not? They just aren't as strong usually."_

_"Yes."_

_"And when testing which spells that had been cast, the quality of the spell cannot be measured, correct?"_

_"No, it just tells us what spell was cast."_

_"So you cannot be certain that it was Severus Snape that cast the spell, can you?"_

_"Well when you put it like that, I suppose not. Not 100 percent, anyway."_

_"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."_

_She tore apart Macnair's accusations that he was a loyal Death Eater. Standing in front of the Death Eater, she maintained rigid control. Her Gryffindor courage betraying none of the fear and nervousness he knew she must feel. She had confessed as much the night before. But she battled on, proving her points with unfailing accuracy._

_"What will you receive for your testimony today?" she asked._

_"I don't understand your meaning."_

_"I think you do. What did the Ministry offer you in return for naming fellow Death Eaters?"_

_"Leniency," he grunted reluctantly._

_"Who else did you name?"_

_"Mulciber, Amycus, the Lestranges..." he said, trailing off._

_"So essentially people who have already been convicted?"_

_"I didn't know that at the time!" he argued._

_"But after you found out that your bid for freedom had failed you played the last card you had in your hand, the last Death Eater that you knew had yet to be convicted...Snape." Macnair didn't answer but just sat glaring at her from his cruel eyes. _

_"Is there a question in there, Miss Granger," Dolores Umbridge said in her sickly sweet voice. Hermione snapped her head around, her gaze moving from Macnair to the judges sitting above._

_"I suppose not. But I would ask the esteemed members of this court to consider giving greater weight to the testimony of the Order of the Phoenix members and indeed to Headmaster Dumbledore than to a convicted Death Eater who will do and say anything to avoid a harsher punishment."_

_Umbridge opened her toady mouth to respond, but Scrimgeour beat her to it. "Duly noted, Miss Granger. We will return with our verdict tomorrow morning." _

_Hermione nodded deferentially, and returned to Snape's side. The courtroom erupted into a cacophony of noise as those seating in the gallery began to move about, discussing what they had just seen._

"_Now we wait," she said, her voice only now showing any sign of fatigue or nerves._

"_Yes, now we wait," he agreed, looking at the door the judges were disappearing into._

"You aren't going to tell me the verdict?" she cried when she realized that he had finished, at least for the moment.

"You can't divine the outcome from me sitting here?" he asked sarcastically. She harrumphed.

"Maybe I arranged a prison break. If Sirius could do it, then certainly you and I together could have managed it."

"That would make for a more interesting story, but that's not what happened."

"So what did happen?"

"That, my dear, is for another time. I think now we should discuss what we learned at the orphanage today." She frowned at him, looking very petulant, but she answered anyway.

"We know Narcissa is definitely contributing, but that not much of it, if any, is going to the orphans. I think for the right price, Estrilda Wondergood would hide Draco or send money onto him wherever he is."

"Exactly my thoughts, which is why I think you volunteering there will be an excellent way to find out anything more. If we had asked any other questions today, she might have become suspicious. She still might if she mentions our names to Narcissa. We certainly aren't the friends we claimed to be."

"I should hope not," Hermione sniffed.

Severus nodded coolly. She always forgot that the Malfoys had been his friends, or the closest he had ever gotten to such a thing. Just because he had turned his back on the Dark Lord didn't mean that he spurned all of his former associates. But she had never understood that. She could look at him and only see the good parts, but she couldn't do the same for other Death Eaters. As a Muggle-born and a friend of Potter, he knew that he was lucky that she accepted him at all, let alone as her lover and friend.

"Narcissa lost a husband and a son in one fell swoop. I wouldn't blame her if she did anything she could to help Draco," he said.

He wondered what she might have said if Lucius had survived the war, but he had been married to her long enough to know not to say anymore. Especially with her sitting so close, leaning into his side as she was.

"Even if he is the one who did this to me?" she asked, stiffening in his loose embrace.

Severus tensed. "If he is the one who did this to you, then he will need all the help he can get when I am through with him." She nodded, but the atmosphere had suddenly turned thick and awkward, and he didn't know what to say. The light mood they had before as he talked about their shared history had been lost.

"You're shivering," he said, noticing suddenly that she was shaking slightly. "It's too cold out here, even with the magical insulation. You should have said something," he admonished.

"I'm fine, and I would have said something if it was a big deal," she said, frowning at his tone. He knew that he sounded more like Professor Snape than Severus just then. Even still he pulled her closer, wrapping his cloak around them both and rubbing his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her up.

"Y-You're s-smothering me," she said, her voice staccato but muted from his efforts. He stilled, but didn't loosen his hold on her. Her hair tickled his face, and he nosed his way through it until his cheek rested against hers. He could sit like this forever, he thought, with her in his arms in this ramshackle garden. He should tell her that, both Minerva and Dumbledore had told him to tell her about his feelings. He had never been a demonstrative man, but it didn't make his love for her any less real.

"If you won't go in, then I will be forced to keep you warm myself," he said instead.

"Am I allowed to breathe?" she asked indignantly even as she settled back against his chest.

"If you must."

"I'm afraid it's essential."

"As long as you're not too loud about it then," he said with a smirk. She stifled a giggle.

They sat that way for several long moments. It was still quiet but the oppressive mood of before had lifted. Severus concentrated on the feeling of having Hermione in his arms, the fresh flowery scents of the gardens, and the sounds of various birds and other creatures moving among the brush. He was trying to place the flower bush next to them, (he was certain it was used in more obscure Pain Potions but he couldn't remember what it was called,) when he noticed that Hermione's teeth were clattering.

"Severus, I…"

"You're still cold. We should go inside," he said brusquely, standing and pulling her up. She was brushing off her robes when it registered that she had started to say something.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," she muttered. "It was nothing." They walked back to the castle holding hands, but as she told him about an article she had read about the history of hellebore, he couldn't help but wonder if he had missed something in his attempt to protect her from the cold.

A/N: Thanks to Larilee for beta-reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Severus was just cleaning up from his third year practical when green flames leapt up in the fireplace.

"Professor Snape?" a voice called out. He whirled around to see Rosmerta's head flickering in the fire.

"What is it?" he asked. What was she doing Flooing him in the middle of the day? For that matter what was she doing Flooing him at all?

"Hermione's just Apparated here. She's been hurt."

"What happened?" She had gone to volunteer at the orphanage, just as she had every other day. There had been nothing out of the ordinary the first two weeks. Severus was starting to think it was a waste of time, but Hermione assured him that regardless of whether or not they found anything that led them to Draco, it was worth the time she spent there helping the children. He had sneered at the comment, but since she had little to do these days when he was in class, he could hardly forbid her to from going. Not that he would have been able to in any circumstance.

"I'm not sure. It's just a couple of bumps and bruises but she's asking for you," Rosmerta replied. Severus nodded, and she stepped aside so that he could get in the fireplace. He stepped into the back room of The Three Broomsticks. Hermione sat in a chair, holding a cold compress to her head when he arrived. She put it down and threw her arms around his neck as he kneeled down beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, surprised at her sudden embrace. He patted her on the back, then pulled away. Brushing away her hair, he cupped her face and looked into her eyes. She was frightened, though it was quickly receding, and she was excited about her recent adventure.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she reassured him.

"What happened"

"I found Draco, or rather he found me." Severus stood up and summoned a chair. Rosmerta interpreted the scowl he directed at her to mean "leave us alone" and left in a hurry. When she was gone, he motioned for Hermione to continue.

"He was coming out of Wondergood's office, disguised of course. She introduced me to him as Mr. Mahoney, but I had this niggling feeling. And he got a little jumpy when she told him my name was Snape. I followed him as best I could, but he soon realized he was being tailed. He shot off some hexes in my direction. They missed, but one exploded an overhang above me," she explained, motioning to the growing bump on her forehead.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," she said, growing exasperated. "Did you hear what I said? I found Malfoy!"

"I heard you. Are you sure it was him?"

"Well not completely sure. But even if it wasn't him then it might be someone who could lead us to him."

He nodded. "I'll owl Potter. He can see look into anything on this Mr. Mahoney, and maybe send someone to where you followed to see if he returns. But our first concern is getting you back to Hogwarts." He took her hand and led her to the fireplace.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked again when they reached their rooms back at the castle. She looked pale and drawn. The swirling ride in the Floo hadn't helped her condition. He hoped he could convince her to lie down at least for a little while. "I think you should get some rest."

"Yes, I think I will."

While she went off to bed, Severus debated whether or not he could owl Potter or whether the incident called for a face-to-face meeting. Despite his abhorrence of the arrogant twat, he decided it would be in the better interest of the case to tell him in person.

Once more, he stepped into the fire. A few moments later, he was at the Ministry and striding towards the Aurors' department.

"I'll get right on it," Harry said later after Severus relayed the details. "And we should probably order surveillance of Narcissa. Draco always did like to run to mommy when things got rough."

'Just like you ran to the headmaster,' Severus thought bitterly. But he held his tongue. He needed Potter if Hermione was going to be helped.

"Right. I will visit the orphanage again. I'm confident I will be able to _convince_ Estrilda Wondergood to help us."

"I don't want to hear about anything illegal, Snape," Potter warned. How hypocritical of him! How many times had he escaped expulsion and worse in his days as a student—all in the name of the greater good?

"Don't worry, Potter," he sneered. "You won't _hear_ of anything." That was what an Obliviate was for. But at least he finally felt as though they were getting somewhere. He was doing something more than just watching Hermione try day in and day out to remember something, anything. If it turned out to be Malfoy that had did this to her, then he would have his head on a platter.

&&&&&

It was late when he finally returned home. Hermione was up and reading in the living room. She still looked worn, and the bump on her forehead had grown larger, its purple and bluish tint contrasting with her pale skin.

"You look horrible," he told her as he brushed the soot from the Floo from his robes.

"Nice to see you too," she said with a scowl.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She went back to her book, ignoring him. He glared at her, but she refused to look back up at him. Chalking up her foul mood to the discomfort she must be feeling, he fetched a potion to give her.

"Have you seen Poppy about that bump yet?" he asked, coming back into the room with a goblet. "She's seen worse but if she's busy we can always go to St. Mungo's." He tried to get a better look, reaching out a hand to brush the hair away from the injury.

"No wonder I'm such a horrible patient if this is the way you hover," she said irritated, throwing her book to the side. "I'm fine."

"Then you won't be needing this Pain Reliever Potion then," he said, slamming it down on the side table. She eyed it wistfully, but turned her nose up. "If you're feeling better then we can discuss our plan of action."

"Fine."

"Firstly, there will no longer be a need for you to visit the orphanage," he told her.

"How are we supposed to find Mr. Mahoney if we don't visit it?"

"_We_ won't. I will. It's too dangerous for you."

"You will not leave me behind, Severus Snape. I fought against the Dark Lord. I was an Auror. Have you read those files? Because I have, and I know that I have faced Death Eater after Death Eater. I think I can handle Estrilda Wondergood and Mr. Mahoney," she argued, stamping her foot.

"I will not allow it," he said firmly.

"Not allow it? Not allow it?" she said, her voice growing louder and more vehement. "How dare you even suggest that I would need your permission? I am a grown woman who will..."

He cut her off mid-sentence, grabbing her by the arms and forcing her to look up at him, "I nearly lost you once and it almost killed me. I will not let you put your life at risk again." Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry, with her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed. He wanted to do nothing else than kiss her right then.

But she wiggled free from his grasp, "Let go of me!"

"Hermione!" he called out after her as she stomped from the room.

"I am not your student anymore. I haven't been your student in a long time. I don't remember if you tried things like this before, but I'm certain that if you had had my reaction was just the same," she said before slamming the door to the bedroom. Severus sank down onto the couch, wondering what to do. Surely, there was a way to convince her that this was for the best. He only hoped he wouldn't have to spend too many nights on the couch before he found it. An hour later, he ventured into the bedroom. It was dark and quiet, but upon climbing under the covers, he could tell instantly that she wasn't yet asleep. A memory of one of their first arguments floated to the surface of his mind.

"_You should never go to bed angry," Hermione told him in that obnoxious tone she reserved for quoting books and famous people. She was always saying little proverbs like that and it drove him mad._

_He lay as close to the bed as he could without falling out, as far away from her as he could possibly get. If he wanted to go to bed angry, then he would damn well go to bed angry._

"_Severus?" He ignored her. "Severus, stop ignoring me," she demanded. Reluctantly, he turned over to face her._

"_What?" he spat._

"_Are you even going to listen to my side?"_

"_And what side is that? If you didn't want to be my wife, then why did you accept my proposal?"_

"_I do want to be your wife. I just don't want to take your name. I like my name. I'm an only child; there will be no more Grangers if I become a Snape," she argued, scooting closer. _

"_Then your mother and father should have had a son," he countered, backing away from her advance and spilling over the edge of the bed. He landed with a groan on the hard stone floor, the thin carpet doing little to cushion his fall. Hermione's mirthful laugh floated down from the bed, only stoking his anger._

"_This is not funny."_

"_On the contrary, I think it's very funny," she said, peering down at him and reaching out her hand. He ignored it and stayed where he was. "Stop acting like a child and come back to bed." He glared at her. "Please," she added. Nodding tersely, he took her hand and let her help him back up. She fluffed his pillows, pulled the covers up, and then cuddled up next to him, running her hands through his hair to soothe him._

"_I do want to be your wife, and as your wife I will listen to you when your students nearly kill you. I will support you when people question you. I will take care of you, making sure you have everything you need."_

"_Will you love me?" he asked somewhat petulantly. Although it felt as though he had won in a sense, he suspected that she had won this argument, and that she would not be taking his name._

"_Until the day I die," she promised. It was enough for now, he thought as she moved to demonstrate that love, her hands moving up and underneath his nightshirt caressing the planes of his chest and her mouth nibbling at his Adam's apple. Besides, he had the rest of his life to convince her. And even if he never did, the makeup sex would be well worth arguing over it._

"Hermione?"

She lay still, not moving. He wondered for a moment if she was asleep, but he decided to try again regardless.

"I know you're awake."

"What?" she asked grumpily. She still sounded angry. That was not a good thing. He wondered if he should tell her the proverb about not going to bed angry, but he had just succeeded in getting her to stop quoting things all the time in the last few years that he didn't want to bring it up in case she started again.

"I don't mean to smother you, but I can't bear to lose you. I hate seeing you like this," he said. It wasn't exactly an apology, but Severus hoped it would be enough to put things to right.

"I am a grown woman."

"I know."

"Then act like it."

"I shall try," he promised. It was all he could do, just as it was all she could do. She didn't answer, the silence hanging in the air. He waited until he realized she wasn't going to respond.

"Good night," he said, settling down to sleep.

"Good night," came the response, its tone softer than before.

&&&&&

The mood was a little tense the next morning. But Severus ate his breakfast and kissed her forehead like he always did, praying she would be in a better mood by dinnertime.

Walking into their rooms after his afternoon classes, he found Hermione flailing her arms and jumping around. A loud racket filled the room, and upon closer inspection, he realized it came from an old victrola. Bright yellow, orange, and red notes burst forth from its edge, hovering in the air around her head while she bounced around the room.

"What is going on?" he yelled, but she didn't hear him. Had she suffered another relapse? This appeared worse than just talking to a tree or a statue. He pointed his wand at the victrola, throwing the room into silence. Hermione froze, and then turned to face him. Her face was flushed from jumping around, and her hair rose up on end, some pinkish looking notes still tangled in it.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

"I was dancing."

"That was NOT dancing. You looked like you had been bitten by a Manticore. And what was that awful racket you were listening to?"

"The Saucy Sorceresses," she said, walking to the table and pouring herself a glass of water. She took a huge gulp.

"They're after your time," she said when she finished, wiping the excess from her mouth with her sleeve. He narrowed his eyes. He sometimes forgot how young she was until moments like these. They seemed to occur more often now that she had reverted full-time to her sixth year mind set.

"My time is not over. My time will not be over until I am dead. And that was _not_ music." She raised her eyebrow in a fairly good imitation of him.

"This is music," he continued, pointing his wand at the victrola again. A soft waltz started, and instead of the violent bursts from before, small pastel notes drifted lazily throughout the room, disappearing after a few moments.

"And this is dancing," he said, holding out his hands to her. She set down her cup and stepped into his arms. He began to move them slowly to the music.

"I didn't know you could dance," she said, sounding impressed.

"I don't," he told her with a smirk. "But this is better than that atrocious display you called dancing."

"You're impossible," she accused him, stepping back from him. He felt cold at her leaving, and he knew he would have to swallow his pride to draw her back.

"I do know the basics," he admitted. His mother had shown him a few steps during happier times, but he didn't remember much. Even her face had become a shadow in his mind, but he did remember her words. 'This will be useful someday, Severus.' He hoped she was right.

"Let me show you," he said, his voice softer now. She looked at him skeptically. "May I have this dance?" Stepping forward, he pulled her close again, relieved that she let him.

"I move here like this, and you move like this," he explained as he guided her with a hand at her back. "Just follow my lead." She nodded. They circled the room, avoiding the couch and desk that stood in their way. After awhile he felt a little braver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes." His heart soared at that single word. He didn't know if she just meant for the dance or is she trusted him with her heart, but it was a step in the right direction. He gave her a small smile before spinning her out. With a slight tug, he pulled her back to him.

"Not bad," she said.

"Thank you," he said as the song ended. He hesitated, but a slower song came on next, and he drew her even closer. Her hand remained enclosed in his and he let them rest against his chest while he gently caressed her fingers with his thumb. The hand on his shoulder snaked around to his neck, and he noticed with pleasure that her breathing had increased when he rested his cheek against hers.

"Wouldn't you agree that this is preferable to thrashing about?" he said into her ear.

"It certainly is nice, but my dance style serves as catharsis."

"I see. I personally prefer deducting points from Gryffindor." He could feel rather than see her smile.

"I don't have that as an option."

"So I'll just have to live with loud noise and jumping around?"

"Yup."

"I suppose it is better than you breaking things."

"Right," she said with a hint of hesitation. He pulled back and looked at her.

"What did you break?"

"Just your shell paper weight, but I fixed it," she said, frowning. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"You can talk to me you know," he said, pressing his cheek against hers once more.

"I'm all talked out."

"Then we'll dance."

"And jump around."

"I am not jumping around," he told her sternly. She giggled.

"What a frightening thought, you dancing to The Saucy Sorceresses."

"Indeed." They swayed to the music, not really moving around the room any longer, but just stepping back and forth in time to the music. The silence was comfortable and he could almost pretend that this was his wife of seven years who remembered him.

"I think I'm starting to understand," she murmured a few minutes later.

"Understand what?"

"Us. I think I'm starting to see what I must have seen before."

"I love you," he told her, his arms tightening around her. She didn't respond right away.

"I can't say that yet," she said quietly.

"That's okay." And it really was. He hadn't expected her to return the sentiment, but he was overjoyed that she was moving in the right direction. Despite their argument the night before, she still could see herself loving him in the future--the near future, he hoped. He pressed his lips to skin below her ear, moving his way down the line of her jaw.

"May I kiss you, Hermione?" She nodded, her eyes drifting shut.

Moving up, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

"You don't have to ask," she breathed when he pulled away. He answered by pressing his lips more firmly to hers. He tightened his hold on her waist, and her fingers scratched at the base of his scalp.

"We should do this more often," he said, kissing the corners of her mouth.

"Hmmm, kiss or dance?" she hummed.

"Both." He kissed her again.

"Maybe, if you let me go with you to question Ms. Wondergood," she said. He stopped abruptly. She opened her eyes. He noticed she was smiling.

"Are you trying to take advantage of my good mood?" he demanded. He took a step back from, but his hands remained at her waist. She moved her hands from around his neck, trailing them down his chest. The sneaky little vixen! She may not remember being married to him, but she managed to manipulate him just the same.

"Will you be angry if I say yes?" He pulled her back to him. She collided with his chest, her hands gripping his upper arms.

"You sneaky witch," he whispered in her ear.

"I have lived with you for seven years. You said yourself that it had worn off on me," she said with an impish grin.

He suppressed a smile. He had already decided today to let her accompany him. It was just a matter of slipping some Veritaserum in Wondergood's tea. Nothing overtly dangerous, but if he allowed her that, then she would be less likely to balk when he didn't mention pursuing whatever leads the matron provided them. She wasn't the only one who could 'forget.'

"Yes, you can come. Not that I could stop you."

"I'm glad to hear you admit it," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the couch. They sat down, and she cuddled up next to him. He wrapped his arm around her, and tried not to think of the mountain of exams he had to grade. This was much more important than reading what his idiot students thought about the Draught of Living Death.

"Tell me more about the trial."

"Sneaky and bossy," he teased. She frowned then.

"I'm sorry, I thought..."

Severus sighed. She was much too sensitive to survive living with him. Had she always had these doubts? "I wouldn't have you any other way," he reassured her. "Now where did I leave off?"

"The verdict," she said, her smile slowly returning.

_He stood standing, awaiting the verdict. He watched as the judges filed in the room, the shuffling of their papers as they slowly took their seats taunting him. As his advocate, Hermione stood next to him. With the added tension and excitement, his nerves were on edge. Every noise, every smell, every touch was heightened and on alert. So it was no small concern that her hand kept brushing up against his, finally encased in it, as she grabbed his hand and wove her fingers through his own._

_"Everything is going to be okay," she whispered. He didn't respond to her encouragement or the small squeeze of her hand, only grimacing. He hoped she was right._

_"Though there are several members of the Wizengamot who are appalled at the measures Professor Snape went to while he was supposedly under cover..." Scrimgeour said in a booming voice. Dolores Umbridge cleared her throat in the same irritating manner she had while she was at Hogwarts while a few of the other judges frowned down at him. Surely they hadn't convicted him, but his knuckles whitened, and he noticed that Hermione's breathing had increased. _

_"We find that there is not enough evidence at this present time to convict. If, however, in the future such evidence is found, we reserve the right to prosecute you to the fullest. You are free to go, Professor." _

_"That's wonderful!" she cried. And then with no warning at all, she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Oh I just knew they would acquit you. They had to. I mean with what little evidence and you being unable to confront your accuser. This is just wonderful!" _

_He stood stiffly in her embrace, listening to her ramble on against his shoulder. Ever so slowly, as relief flooded him, his arms crept up to return her hug._

_"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said so softly that no one else around them could hear. She leaned back and looked him in the eye. He dropped his hands back to his sides._

_"You're welcome," she said brightly. She let go of his neck, but one hand grasped his as she led them through the crowd that had gathered._

_"How do you feel now that you've been cleared of all charges, Professor Snape?" a dodgy looking reporter asked, his Quick-Quotes Quill posed and ready._

_"He has no comment," Hermione said quickly before Snape could respond. She pulled on his hand, and he followed her, content to let her deal with the sudden barrage. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop everyone and he ended up being roughly patted on the back by the Weasley twins as Order members surrounded him._

_"Congratulations, Snape," said one. He bristled at their lack of respect but the occasion hardly called for a correction._

_"We never liked you, but we always knew what did for the Order was valuable work," said the other._

_"Thank you," Severus grunted. He wanted to be home in front of his fire, forgetting that this had ever happened. He wanted to move on with his life now that, for him, the war was truly over._

_"Now if they could only find who set you up," Arthur Weasley said._

_"I doubt they'll even try," he heard one of the twins say, but Hermione continued on through the crowd and as his hand was still entrenched within hers, he had no choice but to follow her. They had made it almost to the door when they were stopped by Alastor Moody._

_"You're very slippery, aren't you, Snape?"_

_"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded. Severus only noticed that she was still holding his hand because she suddenly gripped it harder._

_"A Death Eater doesn't just switch sides because his conscience pricks him. Death Eaters don't have consciences," he accused, his one good eye staring ruthlessly at Severus._

_"The Wizengamot just found me innocent, Moody, unless you hadn't noticed," Snape hissed._

_"No they didn't. They ruled insufficient evidence. You're not innocent, just lucky."_

_"Well either way, I'm free to go. So stand aside." _

_Moody moved slowly and reluctantly, both eyes on him the entire time. _

_"You'll want to watch yourself with that one. Remember, constant vigilance!" he told Hermione, grabbing her by the shoulder as she passed._

_"I can take care of myself," she answered, raising her chin. "C'mon Severus, we have some celebrating to do."_

"Time for dinner," Severus said, ending the story for the moment.

"When are you going to get to the good stuff?" she asked as he stood up, pulling her with him. They headed upstairs to the Great Hall for the evening meal.

"The good stuff?"

"You know, the part where I make you mine."

"Soon enough, soon enough," he told her. But that reminded him of something. He had never given her his third Christmas present. He wondered what she would think of it as he watched her chatter away to Minerva at dinner. Would she laugh at him for keeping them all this time?

There was only one way to find out. Rummaging around after dinner, he found it hidden under the bed.

"What is this?" Hermione asked as he handed her the box, its red ribbon slightly crumpled.

"A box of letters. You traveled a lot as an Auror, so we've exchanged a lot of letters throughout the years. I thought you might like to read them. I was going to give them to you at Christmas, but then got, well, distracted." She thumbed through the papers, then set them aside and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

"You're welcome," he said, pulling her to him tightly. With great reluctance he let her go, giving her a swat on her bottom. "Now leave me alone so I can get some work done."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to my beta Larilee. Stay tuned for the next chapter where Severus and Hermione will question Ms. Wondergood, there is a confrontation with Percy, and our couple grows ever closer.And for those of you who are curious the dog in the last chapter was indeed inspired by Nana from Peter Pan. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Once again, a few days later, Severus and Hermione found themselves walking up to the orphanage. The matron met them in the yard this time. She strode through the throng of children, who parted like the Red Sea at her fiery appearance.

"I have talked to Narcissa Malfoy, and you are no friends of hers," she spat when she had reached them. She was huffing, and her fingers clenched around her wand. Severus almost chuckled to himself at the thought of her taking on a former Death Eater and a recent Auror. If the two of them alone couldn't handle her then the mass of children would most likely help.

"Indeed not, but that doesn't mean _we_ can't be friends, Ms. Wondergood," he said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Wondergood asked, with a puzzled look on her red face.

"It means you have information we want, and we have gold that you want," Hermione said. She turned and smiled at Severus.

"Well said, my dear." He turned and looked at Wondergood. "Shall we go inside and discuss this more rationally?" He ushered the bewildered matron inside, Hermione following behind.

"Just how much gold?" Wondergood asked as they mounted the steps leading inside.

"Please, let us not talk in such vulgar terms until we've observed the niceties," Severus said smoothly.

"Fine, fine," she agreed, looking less angry than she had when she had stormed outside. No doubt she was calculating just how much money she could demand for the information she had.

"I'll make us some tea and we can talk things through," Severus said once they reached the office. Hermione chatted idly about some child while Severus poured the tea, adding just a few drops of Veritaserum to Wondergood's cup.

"Now, for business," he said, handing both women a cup of tea. Hermione sipped. Wondergood paused, looking back and forth between Severus and Hermione.

"Why are you looking for Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

"It is no secret that Hermione has lost her memories. We think that Malfoy is somehow connected," Severus explained. He took a sip of his tea. Wondergood's cup hovered near her lips.

"I can help you," she said, bringing the cup to her mouth. She took a sip, and then set the cup down.

"Why yes you can, Ms. Wondergood, yes you can," Severus said. He watched as her eyes glazed over.

"Where is Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Wondergood answered in a monotone voice.

"But you've been helping him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Narcissa sends money to me. I then give a portion to a Mr. Mahoney. He makes sure that Draco receives the money."

"After taking a cut himself," Severus said with a scowl.

"Yes."

"How can we find this Mr. Mahoney?" Hermione asked.

"He eats lunch at the Fiery Dragon in Warsaw."

"I followed him to Warsaw when I saw him last week," Hermione said.

"He might avoid all of his favorite haunts for awhile if he's smart, but we'll have Potter place some surveillance just in case," Severus said. Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

"I think it's wearing off," she said, motioning to Wondergood. It was indeed.

"I won't give you any information until we decide on a number," Wondergood said. Severus smirked.

"_Obliviate_," he said, raising his wand. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Wondergood. Hermione has enjoyed her time here, but she won't be available to volunteer any longer."

"What a shame," Wondergood replied, looking a bit confused. "We'll miss seeing her around."

"I'm sure you will," he said. Hermione smirked, and they left. But her smile didn't last long.

"Was that such a good idea?" she asked as they walked down to the gate.

"We got the information that we wanted, didn't we?"

"I meant the Obliviate. I mean they can go horribly wrong. Mine did. What if she can't remember who she is?"

"She'll be just fine, Hermione," he said, a little frustrated that she would compare his spell-casting with whoever had done this to her.

"I'm just saying…"

"Well I'm saying that we should take this information to your friend Potter. The sooner the better."

"Yes, I suppose so," she said. But she was quiet the entire time they were at the Ministry. Not even a trip to her desk could excite her. Severus knew what would cheer her up—a trip to Flourish and Blotts.

Her face lit up, the Estrilda Wondergood's Obliviate instantly forgotten at the prospect of visiting her favorite store. Severus hated shopping in Diagon Alley, and would have preferred to Apparate or Floo directly back to Hogwarts, but if it meant a happier Hermione then he would do it.

"I've been owl-ordering everything recently. But nothing beats whiling away an afternoon in a proper bookshop. And Flourish and Blotts is so much better than that hole in the wall place in Hogsmeade," she chattered away as they walked down Diagon Alley. When they entered the store, she made a grand gesture of inhaling. "I even love the smell of books," she said.

"I made you a perfume once that smelled of books," he told her.

"Really?"

"No. Do you think I want to smell dusty parchment when I pull you close?" he said sharply, the sight of the other shoppers already starting to get to him. He strode to Potions section and perused the shelf. They had a few things that looked interesting and he pulled one book out to shuffle through it. Hermione hummed quietly to herself, standing next to him and reading a text on Shrinking Potions.

The book he had proved to be nothing he needed immediately, though he did note the title for later consideration. He set the book down to find that Hermione had disappeared. The store was getting more and more crowded. Saturdays always were busy shopping days, and Severus despised the way he was getting jostled about. Scanning the room, he spotted Hermione across the way, looking at the new fiction arrivals. She glanced up and caught his eye. He crooked his finger, motioning for her to come to him. He wanted to leave; the press of people was turning a normally inviting bookshop into Severus' own private hell.

She smiled and shook her head no. Now that she was in the bookshop, he knew it wasn't going to be easy getting her out again. He stalked through the crowd, mumbling an insincere apology as he knocked the books out of an elderly wizard's hands. But when he arrived in the fiction section, she was gone.

He looked around, catching sight of her among the cookbooks. She had a book open with an exuberant wizard on the front chopping vegetables, but she wasn't reading it. She stood peering over its edge, watching him. As soon as he moved her way, she threw the book down and moved again.

So she wanted to play a game of cat and mouse did she? The store was full of bustling customers so that no one would notice the two of them discreetly chasing each other. And he was willing to cast aside a little bit of personal dignity, albeit a very small amount, if it meant that she was flirting openly with him. He only hoped she knew what she had gotten herself into. He hadn't been a spy all those years for nothing. He pursued her for a few minutes more, watching with satisfaction as she flitted from section to section. But after she evaded him in Travel, he changed the rules of the game. Picking up a book on the Egyptian pyramids, he idly perused the pages while watching her. He slipped behind a group of foreign warlocks and then moved to a darkened corner.

It didn't take long before he heard her approaching. Quickly he turned around, grabbing her by the forearms and pulling them behind a bookshelf away from prying eyes.

"I win," she whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I win."

"You win?"

"Yes, don't you know that the best hunters get their prey to come to them?" he said with an evil smirk. She huffed in indignation, dismayed to learn that she had lost her little game.

"So I'm the prey? Well, now that you have me, will you hang my head on your wall?"

"I think I'd rather devour you," he answered, his gaze moving from her eyes down to her mouth. He could hear her breath hitch, and her color reddened.

"I think I-I might like that," she said hesitantly. He stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers. Nerves, anticipation, and desire mingled together there.

"Oh you will," he promised.

"Excuse me, excuse me," a squeaky voice said next to them, bringing them crashing back to the reality that they were still in the bookstore.

"What?" he hissed, snapping his head around to see a short plump witch glaring at them.

"You're standing in my way," she huffed. "I'm looking for _Magical Me_." Severus glared at her. She glared back.

"I think I'm ready to go," Hermione said, moving out of the way. Severus shot one last nasty look at the old hag, and followed after his wife. With his hand at her back, he guided her through the crowd until they reached the registers. The line snaked back and around one of the bookshelves, reminding Severus why he normally owl-ordered most things. Hermione looked up at him and smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

"We can come back another time," she offered.

He raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I didn't really find anything I just had to have today. And I ordered some the other day that should be coming by owl post this week anyway. I do need some new robes though, if you don't mind stopping there as well."

"Alright then," he said, glad to be out of the crowded store, although he was still upset to have had their moment ruined. He led her out the door and into the street. "I need to go to the Apothecary. You go on to Madam Malkin's. I'll be damned if I'm going to wait around while you fritter over robe lengths."

"I'll meet you back at The Leaky Cauldron," she said before turning and making her way to the dressmaker's.

Severus took his time at the Apothecary, picking and choosing his ingredients with care. After haggling with the witch over prices, he headed towards the Leaky Cauldron to find Hermione. He turned the corner and then he saw it.

Percy Weasley had his wife backed against the wall.

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE," he yelled, dropping his bags. He could feel his control slipping his way. He didn't remember pulling out his wand, but he distinctly felt it as it flew from his hand as someone yelled, "_Expelliarmus_!" But even that wasn't enough to stop him. Punching out, he felt his hand connect with Weasley's nose. He wheeled back to punch him again, but Hermione jumped on him, pushing him back.

"No, Severus!"

"You BASTARD!" Percy yelled, clutching his nose, blood spurting everywhere.

"I'll kill him," Severus growled.

"Then you'll go to Azkaban and leave me alone," she whispered desperately as he struggled against her hold.

"I'm pressing charges for this, you great greasy git. I'm a Ministry employee…attacked right here in the middle of the street. You saw it didn't you?" he asked the small crowd that had started to gather.

"Where were you September 23rd?" Severus yelled over the prat's continued whining.

"You don't think that he has anything to do with, do you?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing, but her hold didn't loosen any. Severus didn't answer but pulled her closer; it was the only thing that kept him from ripping Weasley in two.

"I don't have to answer to you!" Percy yelled back.

"C'mon let's go. Severus, please," Hermione pleaded.

"I'm going to do more than ask questions, you arrogant twat!" Severus yelled.

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Then you are a bigger fool than I thought," Severus spat.

"Please let's go." He struggled a few moments more, but finally relented, letting Hermione lead him away.

"What are you staring at?" he asked snidely as they waded through the crowd. They were walking into the Leaky Cauldron when he realized that his wand was missing. That red-headed idiot still had his…

"My wand!"

"It's right here," Hermione said soothingly, handing the familiar ebony wood to him.

"How do you have it? Did you….?"

"I was afraid you would hurt him," she answered.

"You were worried for _him_?" he said through gritted teeth. His hands gripped his wand convulsively.

"I was worried you would be hauled off to Azkaban for killing a man," she said exasperated.

"What did he say to you?" he demanded. They stepped into the fireplace, and before she could answer, he had thrown the Floo powder and yelled out their destination.

"More of the same. I told him to shove off, or at least was in the process when you barreled up," she continued as they arrived in the dungeons. "Now sit down, take a breath, and relax," she ordered him.

He sat. Still seething, he saw red as he contemplated the afternoon. If that sneaky, conniving, little prick had tried to convince Hermione that she loved him and not Severus even after being threatened with loss of his life, then who was to say he didn't have the guts to try and Obliviate her in order to get what he wanted. But as much as he wanted to kill him, Hermione was right. Doing so would only land him in jail and leave her alone.

"Here, I brought you some mint tea," she said, coming back into the room and placing a mug on the table next to his chair. He grunted, not taking his eyes from the fire. He expected to hear her move away, maybe towards the bedroom, maybe towards one of the other chairs, but she stayed standing next to where he sat.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" she asked tentatively. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her unceremoniously down onto his lap.

"No, everything is not alright," he snarled. How could she even ask that? She still couldn't remember being married to him, Percy Weasley had attempted again to steal her away, he was facing possible charges for attacking him in the street, and she wanted to know if he was okay? He hadn't been okay for quite some time now. He wanted his old life back, when everything was all right. Not giving her a chance to respond, he kissed her fiercely, taking every frustration he had out on her mouth. He pulled away, leaving her struggling for breath.

"Gently," she admonished, her eyes closed and her forehead resting against his.

"I don't want that worthless twit anywhere near you," he growled. Her fingers brushed against his face, tracing his cheekbones, his nose, and then his lips. Her mouth soon followed the path her fingers had traced, her eyelashes tickling his face. He sat motionless while she teased him with tenderness.

"I know," she said, pecking him lightly at the corners of his mouth. "I don't want to be around him either," she said, finally kissing him full on the lips. Where his kiss had been rough and demanding, hers was gentle and calming. Combined with her reassurance that she didn't want Percy, it calmed the fiery monster in his chest, at least for the moment.

She pulled away, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He regretted being rough with her earlier. She deserved better, and he was lucky he hadn't frightened her away at this tenuous stage of rebuilding their relationship. But he should know better by now that she was made of heartier stuff than that.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what to do to calm me down?"

"I think it's the tea," she answered.

"I haven't drunk the tea. Would prefer something stronger actually."

"Oh, then it's a woman's instinct, I suppose."

"Not because you remembered?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I wish I did, but no."

"Not even the smallest thing?"

"No, nothing. Tell me more about what happened after the trial," she said. Changing the topic, he noticed. He nodded and started.

_Hermione's idea of celebrating was a couple of drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. Before long, however, people disappointed with the Wizengamot's ruling to let him go and who were a ways into their cups to the point to venture to tell him so drove the lone two celebrants back to his rooms at Hogwarts. _

"_I will miss these rooms," Hermione said, sweeping her arms in a dramatic manner. Severus had hoped to return here alone, but she hadn't taken the hint and, being grateful as he was, he was somewhat reluctant to throw her out. At least that was what he told himself._

_She wandered around the room, stopping at his bookshelf. "Your library is grossly under stocked, Snape," she remarked._

"_Good thing then that the school library is only steps away," he said, joining her by the shelves._

"_Three floors is not 'steps away'," she argued. He didn't deign to answer. He didn't live in the library like she did. If he was anywhere, it was in his lab._

"_I never would have thought you were a romantic," she murmured, looking up at him with bright eyes. He had no idea what she was talking about. Some of these books were left over by the last Head of Slytherin, but he didn't have time to wonder because in the next moment she was pressing her lips to his._

_"What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing her by the arms and throwing her up against the shelves._

_"I-I was kissing you."_

_"Why?" he demanded. "So you can humiliate me. Will you go back to your idiotic friends and tell them how awful I am at it? Will you laugh at the poor sodding professor seduced by his former student?" he spat at her, tiny bits of spittle landing on her nose._

_"No! Not that, never that," she protested, struggling against his tight hold. "Please, you're hurting me."_

_"Not until you explain yourself."_

"_I—I wanted to kiss you, that's all. I've wanted to kiss you for some time now. You didn't push me away so I thought...," she stuttered._

"_I have done nothing but push you away, you stupid girl, but you can't take a hint!" She looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes but he could see that they were wet with tears._

"_I'm sorry. I—I won't bother you anymore. I'll leave you alone."_

"_Look at me," he ordered her. She raised her head. He didn't have to look long to see that she was telling the truth, the attraction and respect she had for him that had slowly blossomed into something more and the obvious hurt he cause with his harsh rejection. It would be evident to even someone who wasn't a Legilimens. "What if I don't want you to leave me alone?" he asked, his voice softer. Her eyes sparked with sudden hope._

"_You mean that?" she asked just to be sure this time. He nodded, loosening his grip on her. "Then you should kiss me."_

_So he did._

"You would be difficult," she said when he stopped.

"Of course I would."

"I mean here is a beautiful, young, intelligent woman kissing you and you complain about it."

"You forgot irritating," he grumbled.

"At least you saw reason eventually," she said with a giggle.

"Reason had nothing to do with it," he said, pecking her on the cheek.

"No, I suppose not." She kissed him full on the mouth. "I'm going to go read in bed," she said, pulling away finally.

"I'll join you later." She nodded and padded off towards the bedroom.

&&&&&

He expected her to be in bed and asleep when he went into the bedroom, but she stood in front of the mirror in just her knickers, examining a large scar that ran across her stomach.

"It's from the war," he said quietly, approaching her. She looked up at him, surprised to see him standing there, and reached for her robe. He stopped her before she could put it on.

"No," he said, taking it from her hands and laying it aside. He stood behind her at the mirror, his black eyes meeting her brown ones in the mirror. Cautiously, he moved his arms around her, his hands tracing the scar. She stiffened a little, but said nothing.

"Dolohov failed in his second attempt to kill you," he whispered. Severus remembered watching as she clutched her side. The bastard might have succeeded except that Longbottom had thrown a timely curse that had distracted the Death Eater from finishing the job he had started. He remembered how self-conscious Hermione had been the first time she had shown him. He had had to reassure her that he still thought she was the most beautiful woman alive.

"_It's evidence of your strength," he told her, as they lay on his couch. He had been kissing her into oblivion, but she had stopped his hand when it had reached down and tried to move her jumper up._

"And back here is a souvenir from Lucius Malfoy." He moved his hands from her front around to her back, tracing the jagged line that ran parallel to her spine. Goosebumps rose up at his touch, but she didn't look away. "You used to have others, but they have since disappeared—one of the benefits of living with a skilled potions maker." He let himself smirk at this, and she smiled shyly in return.

"But you do have one here," he bent down, and placed his hand on her left knee, "from a childhood accident. You fell from…"

"A tree," she whispered with him. He reverently pressed a kissed to the back of her knee, and then stood back up, trailing his fingers up the back of her thighs, across her bottom, and ending back at her shoulders.

"And another here," he said, his thumb circling a small oblong mark on her right shoulder blade, "a birthmark." She stifled a giggle as he leaned down to place a kiss there. That reminded him of something.

"And you're very ticklish here." He poked her in the ribs and she squealed. Trying to wiggle away, he held her tight, his hands on her upper arms.

"And here." He nuzzled her neck.

"Stop! Please stop!" she cried and laughed at the same time. He stilled, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. From there he gazed at her appearance in the mirror. She was beautiful.

"I look so different than what I remember," she said.

"You're a woman now, Hermione. You have the hips of a woman." He ran his hands up and down her hips to illustrate.

"You have the breasts of a woman," he said, his hands following. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he touched her there. She turned in his embrace, reaching up to kiss him. She was tentative, but responsive, a woman unsure of her sexuality and the power she held over him. He drank her in, kissing her tenderly, softly. He started when he felt her hands at his collar, fumbling with the buttons there.

"Do you want me to stop? Is this what you want?" he asked, pulling away to read her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red and swollen from his attentions.

"No…yes. What are you asking?" she said, resting her forehead against his.

"I don't want to push you, Hermione. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I don't know what I want. I don't know anything anymore. I have this huge weight on my chest, pressing in on me, and I feel like I'm drowning. But when I kiss you it changes, and I feel like I'm floating like a balloon, and I can forget. I can forget that I forget."

"You're mixing your metaphors," he said with a smirk. She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Shut up and kiss me." He didn't argue. He had missed her, missed her touches and her warmth, that feeling of peace that she instilled in him.

He kissed her softly while her hands returned to his buttons. He pulled her closer, his hands exploring her silken skin. Her fingers brushed lightly against his chest and she placed reverent kisses on each inch of newly exposed skin. It had been so long, he had worried this moment would never come, that he would never again get to hold her, that she would never touch him. And now that it was here, every synapse was doubly aware, firing and crackling at the lightest pressure. She was teasing him into oblivion.

"You have scars too," she said several minutes later after she had stripped away his outer robes and shirt. Tracing the jagged lines, she looked at him solemnly. He nodded, taking her hands in his, and kissing her knuckles.

"Too many to count."

"I don't remember. I'm sorry, I don't remember," she whispered desperately.

"You can learn again. Here," he took her hand and placed it over a scar that spanned his chest. "This is from a fight with Potter and Black." She rubbed her thumb over the puckered skin, taking his breath away. She met his eyes again. "And this one is from Lucius Malfoy in the final battle." He took her through several more, until it was more than he could stand. He kissed her mouth again, his need starting to overcome his gentleness. He might have balked at pushing her this far, but she returned him with equal parts fervor, her tongue moving against his in wanton abandon.

He maneuvered them back towards the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She sat straddling him, her hands moving over the planes of his chest, her mouth nipping at his neck. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs tracing small circles higher and higher. She shifted to give him better access, and this small movement almost proved to be his undoing.

"Are you sure," he asked again. He never wanted this sweet torture to end, but if meant that she would trust him then he would delay it a little longer.

"I need this. I need you," she whispered, her breath hot in his ear before she bit his lobe. He growled in response, flipping them over so that she lay underneath him. She shrieked in surprise, and her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," she answered, pulling him close and kissing him full on the mouth. He concentrated on showing her exactly how much he loved her. She didn't remember the last seven years and he wanted to make sure to leave her with a night she would never forget.

Worshipping her body, he kissed his way down her arm, pausing to pay special attention to the sensitive skin in the crook of her elbow. He traced the lines of her palm and tasted each finger. He caressed each breast, marveling at how they fit perfectly in his hands, how they stiffened under his mouth. Reaching down, he circled her knees, and then worked his way up stroking the soft skin of her thighs. Finally finding her center, he used his long fingers to tease and tickle her into a frenzy.

When she was finally quivering in anticipation, her hands fluttering over his back and neck, he slid into her welcoming warmth. It was like coming home after a long and arduous journey. The world fell away and the only thing he could see was Hermione, his Hermione. He repeated her name in whispered fragments as he moved against her. She met him in his movements, her legs coming up to wrap about him. She shuddered and cried out, and he followed her with his own release. Collapsing on top of her, he lay still for a moment, trying to collect himself. He rolled away reluctantly, grabbing her hand to reassure himself that she was still there, that he hadn't dreamt it all.

"Is it always like that?" she asked when she had the breath to.

"No," he said with a smirk. She frowned, a look of consternation. "Sometimes it's better." She smiled.

"What is it like?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" she asked as she turned over and laid her head on his chest. He pushed her hair away from his nose, and then put his arms around her, pulling her close. She wiggled, snuggling closer until she was comfortable.

"It was wonderful," she said with a dreamy smile before he could answer her question.

"No, I meant what is it like not having your memories?"

"Oh that." She frowned. "It's strange. I still know things, things I don't remember learning. For example the other day, I looked at this storekeeper and asked if she had any Ashwinder eggs left. She told me no, but I could tell she was lying. I don't know how I knew, but I did. When I asked Harry about it, he told me it was Legilimency, but I have no memory of learning that."

"It's a natural byproduct of learning Occlumency," he told her. "You and Weasley were taught your last year of Hogwarts."

"By you?"

"No, by Dumbledore. I refused." She nodded her head, her pointy chin poking him in the chest.

"The other thing is that though my memories are gone, many of the emotions are still there." Did that mean…?

"The emotions?" he asked in what he hoped sounded like a nonchalant manner.

"For example, my brain told me that you were a heartless, mean, sarcastic bastard whom I should despise."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, especially since you gave me only an 'A' on my last Potions essay when it was most certainly 'O' material," she said, becoming saucy. He liked her best like this.

"I stand by my decision," he said firmly.

"Well luckily for you my heart told me that there might be more to you than your chilly exterior and sharp tongue."

"You told me once that you liked my sharp tongue," he teased.

"It is a talented tongue," she said, her voice soft and husky as she leaned up to kiss him.

"I think that it was never a matter of remembering that I loved you, only why I loved you," she said when she lay back finally. He propped himself up on his side and gazed down at her.

"So you love me?" he asked just to be sure that he had heard her correctly.

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"I love you, Severus Snape."

"Once more," he prompted. He would never tire of hearing these words from her.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too," he said, burying his head in her hair and pulling her close. She wiggled around to get comfortable, and they ended lying face to face, legs intertwined, her hands tracing patterns on his chest, while he held her by her waist.

"You know what convinced me that you did?" He shook his head, his ears pricking for this new and unsolicited information. He would be sure to remember to do it again in the future. Was it the picnic in the garden? Dancing with her in the living room? Blowing off his face in an attempt to get her to kiss him? Actually, he hoped it wasn't that one.

"When I first woke up in the infirmary and they told me that I was your wife, I was sure there had to be some mistake, because if there was anyone you hated more than Harry it was his friends. But then when we were together you were cordial and almost friendly, but I just couldn't work out in my head where we had fallen in love. Where was the passion or the intensity? It wasn't until Christmas that I started to believe there might be something more buried beneath those layers of yours."

Christmas? But Christmas had been a complete sodding disaster. He told her as much.

"I know it sounds funny, but I don't remember ever feeling so wanted than that day," she said, laughing at his bewildered expression. "First you gave me the most beautiful robes and necklace. No one ever gives me clothes and jewelry, all I ever get are books. And you told me I was lovely. Then you asked for my help with your potions. The day was going so nicely, and then….

"And then Percy," he finished for her, instilling as much bitterness in the name as he would James Potter or Sirius Black. He really didn't want to revisit this issue, not after this evening in Diagon Alley, not after having just made love to her, but if they had to he supposed there was no better place than in bed with her naked body pressed up against his. It made what normally would have been an ego breaking discussion a little less hard to bear.

"Yes, and then Percy. You were so angry at the thought that I had strayed. You threatened him, you yelled, I heard you throwing things around in your office, and Minerva told me later that you spent the night in your Pensieve. I didn't realize it at the time, but the reason I was so angry and upset was because I was scared I had ruined things in the same moment I realized how deeply you felt about me."

"So my little fit of temper convinced you that I cared?"

"If it had just been a fit of temper, I might not have realized how much passion lie behind your chilly exterior," she said, her hand moving south.

"So I should go on jealous rampages on a regular basis to prove my love to you," he said while he still had the ability to think coherently.

"I can think of better ways to show me," she said, her hand finally reaching its goal as she covered his mouth with hers. He growled his approval, pulling her even closer, intent on showing her just how much passion and deeply rooted love he truly had for her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The next morning Severus awoke abruptly to find Hermione's elbow firmly planted in his stomach as she repositioned herself. She had wrapped herself around him, hanging on like a barnacle, her legs intertwined with his, her hair spread out everywhere, and her chin on his chest. He smiled, and carefully extricated himself. After seven years, he was quite adept at removing her without waking her. Rolling her over onto her back, he unwound his limbs from hers, and stared down at her.

For seven years and before, he had wondered why she loved him. The answer seemed a little clearer after last night. Why had he never thought to ask her before? Because he was afraid of the answer. He didn't possess her Gryffindor courage. It was that courage that had allowed her to kiss him that first time, to stay with him even when he was horribly mean and unfair to her. But she had said last night that she liked that he had called her lovely. He made her feel desirable. But she had also mentioned Percy. Something that before she had lost her memory might have filled him with a jealous rage, however, somehow last night it made sense. He got the sense that she had rather liked seeing him so incensed over her. Ironic that in trying to take Hermione away from him, Percy had given him the exact circumstances to prove his love for her. He should write the prat a thank you letter. In fact, he would do just that. A dangerous smile spread across his face.

"_Accio_ parchment and quill," he said softly so he wouldn't wake Hermione. His owl had just flown off when Hermione awoke.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw him.

"Good morning," she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.

"It certainly is."

"And after such a pleasant evening," she said with a yawn.

"Just pleasant?" he asked with a frown. He certainly had enjoyed himself beyond just pleasantly.

"Exquisite, earth-shattering, and unforgettable. How's that for stroking your ego?" Her eyes were finally open now, and she smiled while she wiped the last vestiges of sleep from them.

"Much better."

"You're sure it doesn't need a little more stroking?" she said, reaching for him. He chuckled, grabbing her hand.

"Maybe we could eat breakfast first. I'm not a young man anymore."

"Sounds good to me," she said, sitting up and arranging her hair. He called for a house-elf, ignoring her look of disdain. He was not stirring from bed a minute before he had to today.

They ate their breakfast in bed—blueberry muffins, fruit, and yogurt--with each other as dessert.

"Let's never get out of bed," she said later a little breathless.

"Not very practical for teaching," he commented.

"How did I ever manage to ensnare such a romantic husband," she said, rolling over and looking at him, a look of mock scorn on her face.

"By sheer stubbornness, I assure you," he replied.

They spent all morning and into the afternoon in bed. Hermione summoned the _Daily Prophet_ and read to him. They made love, napped, and then made love again. It was like their honeymoon all over again, and Severus couldn't remember a time in recent memory when he had been so relaxed or happy.

"I want to try something," he said. "I'll give you a word, and you say the first thing that pops into your head. Maybe it will trigger something." He was sitting up against the headboard with Hermione's head in his lap. She had her eyes closed and was close to purring as he ran his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. He hoped in her relaxed state that he would be able to bring something to the forefront of her mind.

"Okay," she sighed.

"Potions." It was the perfect start—their first and longest association with each other.

"Accident."

"I take offense at that," he said with a huff, his hand stilling.

She opened her eyes, giggling at his frown. "Well you never had to partner with Neville," she retorted.

"Fine, next word is Hogwarts."

"Harry and Ron."

"Can you pick something less offensive?" he said with a sneer.

"I thought I was supposed to say what came to mind first?" she said, sitting up and returning his glare.

"The idea is to think of something that has to do with us."

"Well then choose some words that relate only to the two of us," she said.

"Fine." He helped her lay back down and tried again. "Wedding."

"White dress," she said.

"Good." He decided to stick with this theme. "Ceremony."

"Surprise," she said, her eyes flying open. "I don't know why I said that!"

"Our wedding was a surprise. We didn't see the need to wait after I finally proposed," he said, trying to clamp down his excitement. This could be nothing, he reminded himself—a fluke. Or…or it could be everything. Maybe this would be the key to unlocking the rest. "Close your eyes and concentrate on that. What else do you remember?"

"A white dress," she said. That wasn't much to go on, almost all witches these days followed the Muggle tradition and wore white dresses. The fact that Hermione was a Muggle-born made that even more likely.

"And I had flowers in my hair." That was a little closer.

"Harry was upset." Nothing that wasn't predictable so far. Maybe they should shift their focus.

"How did I propose?" he asked.

"In the garden." His smile faded. That wasn't right. "No, no not in the garden, here, in your rooms, on the couch."

"Yes, go on," he prompted her. That was correct.

"_Stay with me," he said, nuzzling her hair. She hummed with pleasure, craning her neck to look back at him._

"_I believe you said you would not accept me as your bloody roommate," she retorted. She wanted nothing more in the world than to live with him, to wake up in the morning with him, to eat breakfast together and chat about their days. She wanted to come home to him, and she wanted to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep. But not as his live-in girlfriend. She wanted a show of commitment out of him._

"_I won't."_

"_Oh." Was he playing with her?_

"_I don't want you as my roommate. I want you as my wife."_

"_What?" she gasped, turning around so suddenly that she elbowed him in the stomach._

"_Marry me," he said. Her eyes brimmed with tears. It wasn't the most romantic thing she had ever heard of, but it was just the kind of proposal one would expect from Severus Snape. She stared, saying nothing for several moments so that he felt compelled to speak again, "Please."_

_That brought her to her senses. "Yes, Yes, of course. I love you."_

He listened to her tell the story of how he had asked her to marry him.

"Is that it?" she asked, looking up to him earnestly. He nodded slowly. Hermione jumped up and squealed, "I remembered!"

He joined her, grabbing her by the waist and swinging her around. After a few glorious moments of jubilation, he sobered. "We should take you to Madam Pomfrey and see what she says."

She nodded her agreement, and they both quickly threw on some robes and made their way upstairs.

"You've remembered something?" Poppy asked astonished when she heard the news.

"Just a snippet but it's a start, isn't it?" Hermione said. She was sitting on the edge of one of the beds while the nurse ran her wand up, down, and around her with diagnostic spells.

"Everything appears to be the same as it was when I last saw you," Poppy said, furrowing her brow.

"What does that mean?" Severus growled. Why was it that medical personnel could never give anyone a straight answer?

"I don't know. I didn't think the memories were left in her head to remember, but I could have been wrong. The spell was obviously done wrong, so perhaps instead of removing the memories, it just jumbled them around and knocked them out of place. The fact that you were able to remember anything at all is very encouraging."

"Will the rest of them come back?" Hermione asked. Severus could tell she was trying very hard to rein in her excitement in case the news was less than promising.

"It's possible. But don't get your hopes up too high, missy," the nurse said, wagging her finger. "It's possible a majority of your memories were removed, in which case, you're never getting them back. But I would concentrate on what you can remember and also work on making new memories," she said with a wink in Severus' direction. He fought hard not to blush but Hermione was fighting a losing battle in that regard.

"We're already working on that," she answered, her face completely red.

"Good."

They hurried out of the infirmary. Severus didn't know whether or not he should be ecstatically happy about Hermione remembering something or angry and embarrassed that Pomfrey had pried into their private lives. He was a little of both to be sure.

"Well, shall we go make some new memories or work on remembering my old ones?" Hermione said with a giggle as they descended the main staircase.

"I don't like my private life exposed to the public eye," he answered tersely.

"So you won't be shagging me in the hall then?"

"I'm not joking, Hermione." He noticed that the portraits ears had perked up at her mention of shagging in the hall. They were lewd voyeurs, the whole lot of them!

"Madam Pomfrey is hardly the public eye, Severus. Now don't ruin what should be a glorious day by being a sourpuss."

"Fine," he said in his grouchiest voice, but she ignored it like she always had. He wondered if sometimes the reason their relationship worked was because Hermione seemed unable to read him. But then, at other times, she knew just what to say or do to make him feel better. Would she ever cease being a mystery?

"Good. Let's take a walk outside then and you can shag me by the lake."

"In this cold? Are you insane?"

&&&&&

He awoke the next morning only to have a sense that someone was looking at him. He peeked through sleep-laden eyelids to see Hermione regarding him intently.

"Are you staring at me?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't ever want to forget your face again," she answered, moving closer until they were nose to nose. He opened his eyes fully, finding himself looking straight into her brown ones. They drifted closed again, his body fighting to stay asleep. He was surprised to feel her lips brush against his own a moment later. She tasted like mint mixed with tea; apparently, she had been up already this morning.

"Mhmmm," he groaned as she pulled away.

"Go brush your teeth and we'll talk," she said.

"Talk?" It wasn't worth it if that was all they were going to be doing.

"Maybe more," she said, pushing him towards the end of the bed. He sat up and threw off the covers before she could throw him in the floor. "If you're lucky," she taunted as he made his way to the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his hair, and splashed some water on his face. Returning to the bedroom, he found Hermione curled back in bed reading a book.

"You wanted to talk?" Taking her book from her, he laid it on the bedside table, and pulled her close.

"Yes, I did. I think…." He didn't let her finish, pressing his mouth to hers.

"What were you saying?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"I think trailing Mahoney won't do us any good. He's probably already told Draco we're onto him. Draco will do one of two things," she said, her voice breathy. "Oh! That tickles!" He moved back up and captured her lips in his. He laid her back down on the pillows. She pulled him down on top of her, her hands fisted in his nightshirt.

"One: He'll go back to his mother. She's his only source of money," she managed while he nibbled at her ear.

"Or?" he asked, not letting her answer, kissing her deeply, his tongue exploring the familiar planes of her mouth. She grabbed his hand that had worked its way under her camisole and was stroking her stomach, and pulled it up to her breast. Surprised, he paused and looked down at her.

"Or two, he'll escape on his own," she said, quirking her eyebrow at him. Her hand rested over his, and she gave it a nudge of encouragement. He didn't need to be told a third time.

"I think you're….mmm very….astute….in…. he told her in between kisses.

"Narcissa," she gasped as he turned his attentions back to her neck, working his way down and across her collarbone while his hand massaged her breasts through her shirt. The name of another woman confused him, and he stopped abruptly.

"What?" He looked at her puzzled.

"We should probably keep an eye on her."

"Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps we should leave this discussion for a later time?" He really was too tired this morning to focus on four things at once. He wanted to think about nothing but Hermione, her mouth, her neck, and her breasts. Throwing Draco in the mix only detracted from the more pleasurable aspects of this "conversation."

"I wondered how long you would let me ramble on," she said with a smile.

"What? This was a test?"

"Of sorts." He considered that for a moment. Was he angry? He might have been in any other situation. But this time, rather he was just happy to wake up and find his wife kissing him.

"Did I pass?"

"You used to tell me to be quiet a lot sooner when I was a student," she said, pulling him back down onto her. They kissed again, this time with no interruption until the clock chimed. He looked up suddenly to see the hand pointing at "You're late." He cursed. Hermione sat up next to him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You should hurry." Watching from the bed, she sat quietly while he threw on his robes. He stopped to steal one more quick kiss before he headed out to his first class.

"Potter," he said, turning around at the door.

"What?" She had turned back to her book already.

"Potter has Aurors watching Narcissa Malfoy's movements."

"Oh, good. And don't schedule any detentions for tomorrow night."

"Why not?" he asked, glancing at the clock again.

"We have the Annual Order of the Phoenix Reunion to go to," she said quickly. She knew he wouldn't be happy with this news.

"And you're telling me about it today?" If he were able, he would deduct points.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I forgot."

"I'm quickly tiring of that excuse."

"It would be terribly wasteful of me not to put it to good use," she retorted. Normally he might have said something cutting, but he was too late. How very convenient of her to suddenly remember after snogging him into oblivion and right before he was off to class.

"Now get to class or I'll have to deduct points from Slytherin," she said, throwing a pillow in his direction. He ducked and hurried to class.

If his students noticed his better mood that morning, they didn't say anything, but despite the prospect of a party at Order headquarters, Severus felt lighter than air and happier than he had in months.

&&&&&

The next night, Hermione and Severus Apparated as promised, but not without protest, to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Following the laughter and chatter that drifted up from the basement kitchen, they found the room overflowing with former Order members and their families. Quite a few redheaded children ran in and out of the crowd. Dumbledore waved to them as they entered.

"Glad to see you," he said, patting Severus on the back.

Severus scowled. "You just saw me two hours ago, you doddering old fool. We were discussing curriculum changes."

"Yes, but I'm glad to see you _here_."

"We're happy to be here," Hermione said with a smile.

"Speak for yourself," Severus said under his breath, taking a glass of champagne from a house-elf passing by. He tried to make his way to a quiet corner where he could sulk and look dangerous, but Hermione pulled him over to see the display some idiot had erected in memoriam.

There was a large picture underneath a banner, taken one night when Dumbledore had been feeling particularly sentimental. All the Order members gathered in front of the fireplace in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, smashed into a tiny space to memorialize forever those who took upon themselves to ensure the Dark Lord's defeat. Hermione waved from the front, right next to her irritating friends Weasley and Potter. Severus stood in the back corner, trying hard to inch out of the camera's view but the headmaster kept tugging him back.

"Who isn't here?" Hermione whispered. She had a pained look on her face, and he knew that besides being sad that there were those in the photo that had died fighting that she was worried that she would say something embarrassing or hurtful because she didn't remember.

"Tonks," he said, motioning to the pink-haired witch who was falling over laughing in the picture because of something Remus was telling her. "Charlie Weasley, Emmeline Vance, and Arabella Figg, were killed. Ernie Macmillian was never seen again after the last battle. And Mad-Eye is alive but he won't be here. I think you know the rest."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Why won't Moody be here?"

"If you thought he was paranoid before, he's even worse now. He's holed himself up in a cabin in the highlands. He never leaves, and the one poor soul who tried to visit him left with a broken leg, three broken ribs, and a sprained wrist."

"That's horrible," she whispered.

"It's no life I'd want to live," he said, thinking that without Hermione, his wouldn't have been too much different. "But you're supposed to be enjoying the party, not moping around depressed." He was very solicitous of her moods recently. She seemed so much more apt to slide into a depression since her attack, much more introspective than she had ever been before.

She nodded. "I think I'll mingle a bit. I haven't seen much of the Weasleys since Christmas, and Harry wanted to talk to me about possibly doing some consultant work for the Auror department."

He watched her snake her way through the crowd. She had a smile and something to say to everyone she met, and she practically glowed as she related what she had remembered. He hated seeing his private affairs flaunted in public like this, but it gave her such pleasure to tell everyone how he had proposed. Jealousy welled up as she placed her hand on Lupin's arm, laughing at something he said. Probably mocking how he had asked her to marry him, but then she turned and caught his eye from across the room. He held her gaze as she smiled and waved at him before turning back to Remus.

Relaxing slightly, he reminded himself that she loved him, and no one else. He leaned back against the wall and drained his drink. Though it wouldn't hurt to remind her later this evening just how much they loved each other. His lascivious thoughts were interrupted by Potter.

"Snape, I just got an owl from my surveillance team. It looks like Malfoy has shown up at the manor," Harry told him.

"Let's go," he said, but he pulled on Potter's arm as he started to move away. "Don't tell Hermione. She doesn't need to know. I'd rather she stay out of harm's way," he whispered.

Harry looked over to where Hermione stood laughing with the Weasley twins. "She's not going to like being left behind," he said.

"Let me handle that later," Snape said, trying to reassure him, but it didn't look like it was working. "She just starting to get her memory back. Too much stress and she'll have a relapse. Then we'll be back to square one. This is for her best interest, Potter," he added. Harry nodded slowly.

"Fine, hurry up then. We don't want to lose the element of surprise."

"I'll meet you outside."

He walked over to where Hermione stood, eavesdropping on her conversation.

"Did you hear what the _Daily Prophet_ wrote about Percy?" one twin asked her.

"No, what?" she asked.

"Rita Skeeter did an exposé on him and his bid for the Minister of Magic. It wasn't too complimentary. She didn't mention you by name, but his attempts at adulterous affairs did play a big part in the piece," the other twin answered.

"She was probably afraid of what I would do to her," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"Not to mention Snapey-poo," the first twin said. Severus had to clench his fists to keep from punching the irreverent sod.

"His chances at political office are pretty much shot now. It seems the public doesn't like adulterers but they like failed ones even less. If you're going to seduce a married woman you should at least be successful at it," the second twin said with a laugh. There appeared to be no love lost between Percy and his brothers in the Weasley family.

"A pity," Severus said, making his presence known. He was satisfied to see the first twin looking worried, wondering if he had overheard the Snapey-poo comment.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you, Severus?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Of course not," he said, kissing her cheek. "I've stayed the requisite half hour. I'm going home. You stay as long as you want." If he was going to lie to her, it was best to get it all done in one breath. Later she could decide about which one she was angrier.

"I'll see you back at Hogwarts," she said before turning back to the conversation. He fetched his cloak and hurried outside to where Potter and Ron Weasley were waiting for him. With a nod, the three Apparated directly outside Malfoy Manor.

'Finally,' Severus thought, "I will have my answers. Hermione will have her justice.'

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Larilee for looking over the grammar. We're very close to the end, folks. I predict one, maybe two more chapters. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

They Apparated to the front gate of Malfoy Manor. Night was falling, and Severus could see the shadow the large mansion made against the burnt ochre of the sky. It had been such a long time since he had been here, but even from this distance, he could see that the manor had fallen into disrepair. Much of the Malfoy's assets had been seized when Lucius was arrested the first time, and then again the second time. Narcissa survived on the money she inherited from her own family, the Blacks. It wasn't enough by the looks of things, especially if she was sending a large portion of that to aid Draco in his hiding.

The gate creaked open as if it had been waiting for them. Potter eyed him. Severus nodded and they proceeded. They each had their wands out, poised and ready to pounce on anything that even hinted at danger. It was not uncommon for magical homes to be booby-trapped against intruders—nasty ones that warned against any further perpetrators. Being the Malfoys, Severus could only imagine what lay in wait for them.

A contingent from the Ministry had already arrived and was in the process of searching the Manor from top to bottom, but Severus doubted they would find anything the Malfoys didn't want found. Draco was a slippery bastard, having learned quite a lot from his father, Severus noted. Disappointed and sad when he had taken the Dark Mark, Severus considered it one of his greatest failings that he hadn't convinced him otherwise. But posing as a Death Eater, he couldn't very well warn against them. Draco had to make his own decisions, and he had decided to follow family tradition. Severus pondered whether or not his advice, if given, would have fallen on deaf ears anyway, so entrenched in the Dark Arts as the Malfoys were. Draco had grown up surrounded by them.

They made it all the way to the front door with no more than a sideways glance at a rustle in the trees. A house-elf answered their knocks, and led them into the drawing room. Severus remembered past meetings in this room with Lucius and other Death Eaters. It looked the same—the same antique furniture, the same Dark books that lined the wall, the snake imagery everywhere. Narcissa swept in.

"Severus, you should have called," she sniffed, not bothering to address or even look in Potter or Weasley's direction, her long, thin nose stuck up in the air. "Sent a note or something, though you never were one for common courtesy."

"This isn't a social call, Narcissa," he answered smoothly.

"Where is Draco?" Potter demanded. Severus resisted the urge to sigh. The boy had no concept whatsoever of subtlety or how to deal with Slytherins. Blazing in and just asking for what you wanted almost never worked, unless of course you were also carrying large amounts of gold along with you.

"My son disappeared after that last battle," Narcissa spat. "How dare you storm into my home and start questioning me about such painful subjects. These people are tearing up my home. It will take the house-elves days to put it all back together." Her eyes welled up with tears, and Severus could tell she was working herself up into a snit. He had seen this act many times before used on Lucius and others, but it would not work this time.

"We don't mean to be rude. But we have information that leads us to believe that your son is still alive. Surely you would do anything in your power to ensure that he is safe." She frowned, sitting primly on the edge of one of the chairs and arranging her robes around her.

"Of course I want Draco alive," she said. "I have always wanted the very best for my son."

"Aiding and abetting a criminal is a serious offense, Mrs. Malfoy," Potter warned. The tears in her eyes dried up immediately as she turned to face him.

"I don't like what you are implying, Mr. Potter. You may be the savior of the Wizarding world, but that hardly gives you the right to start throwing around unfounded and slanderous accusations like confetti," she said, her voice as cold as ice.

"Explain then why you were sending money to Ms. Estrilda Wondergood," Potter demanded.

"She is the matron of a very wonderful organization that helps those magical children who have had the misfortune of losing a parent. They have lost their mothers, and I have lost my son. It is only natural that I would be interested in such a cause."

It was a practiced answer, and Severus briefly wondered how long she had stood in front of her gilded mirror and repeated it. Several times judging by the flawlessness of the delivery.

"And Mr. Mahoney?"

"I have no idea who you are talking about," she sniffed. Severus snorted his disbelief, and she turned her glare to rest on him. He returned it with equal force until she was obligated to turn away.

"Then what of reports that your son has returned to Great Britain, and in fact to this Manor?" Potter said. Severus was starting to wonder what was taking the Aurors so long. If Draco were here then surely they would have found him by now. Snape was tiring of Potter's Poirot routine.

"If Draco is alive then I hope he wouldn't be so stupid and sentimental as to return here. I want him alive and happy, and he certainly won't be that sitting in Azkaban." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arm of the chair.

"Why would he be sentimental?" Severus asked, stepping forward. Narcissa opened her mouth and then closed it again, deciding how to best answer his question. It was one answer she hadn't practiced in front of her mirror.

A bang and a crash interrupted them. Potter jumped up and rushed from the room followed closely by Ron. Severus stood and motioned for Narcissa to precede him. They sauntered into the hallway to find Draco being wrestled to the floor by two beefy Aurors. Potter stood with his wand raised and pointed at the fray, but refrained from shooting off any hexes lest he hit one of his own men.

Frankly, Severus was surprised by his lack of restraint. Apparently, Auror training had done some good, training a bit of the impetuousness out of the boy. But he had more important things to focus on rather than worrying about his newfound appreciation for a Potter.

Ron jumped in the middle of the fray, his fists curled and flying. Between him and the Aurors, they finally wrestled Draco to the ground after several moments of grappling with each other. Grunts of exertion from the men on the floor combined with Narcissa's huffs and cries combined to irritate Severus. He wanted that information, and he wanted it now.

Draco winced as one of the Aurors pushed his head into the marble tiling of the floor. The other sat on his legs. Both were red in the face and gasping for air.

"You win, you win," Draco conceded.

"All this violence…is it really necessary?" Narcissa asked brusquely, rushing over and kneeling next to her son. "Let him up," she ordered the Auror. "Now!"

The man kept his grip tight on Draco, who had stopped struggling and was now lying still, and looked to Harry. Potter nodded and he let Draco ease up. Ropes burst forth from his wand and Draco found himself bound from chest to knees. Only then did the two Aurors step back.

"Surely a simple Stunner would have sufficed?" Severus asked, appalled to have seen such a display of pure violence. Wizards rarely fought hand to hand, preferring to stay behind the relative safety of their wands.

"He took us by surprise," the second Auror said, trying to regain his composure.

Narcissa sniffed, shooting them evil looks before turning to coddle her long lost son. "Have they hurt you, my darling?"

"I'm fine. Just help me up," Draco said with a sneer, wiggling against the ropes. Narcissa drew her wand, but Severus stopped her.

"I'd rather do it, thank you." She glared at him, but he ignored it, casting a Mobilicorpus and moving Draco into a chair in the adjoining room. "We have a few questions to ask him. You can wait outside," Severus told Narcissa when she tried to follow him into the room.

She watched helplessly as Potter, Weasley, and the other Aurors walked into the room. Shutting the door behind him, Severus couldn't help but smirk at her indignant stance. It must be frustrating to be so powerless in one's own home.

Turning around, Severus leaned back against the door for a moment, taking in the scene. The restrained Draco in the chair he had dropped him in, looking uncomfortable. Potter and Weasley looking as murderous as he felt hovering nearby. The other two Aurors standing like sentinels off to the side, their wands not out, but their hands poised to draw them at a moment's notice if the situation were to call for it.

"Now that we have you, we have some questions to ask you," Severus started, advancing towards Draco. "What spell did you use on Hermione?"

"I don't know what you're on about," Draco said with a scowl.

"I think you do," he said leaning down until their noses almost touched, his black hair sliding against Draco's cheek.

"I have no idea."

"Let's start at the beginning," Potter said, pushing Severus away from Draco. "What were you doing in London in September?"

"I'm not saying a thing until I talk to a lawyer," Draco said.

"Things will go easier on you if you talk now," Weasley pointed out.

"Is that so, Weasel? The public wants mercy for former Death Eaters now, do they?"

Ron turned red at the old insult. "Shut up, you ferret."

"We need to know what spell you used on Hermione in order to best reverse it. You tell us that and we will petition for leniency. That's saying a lot coming from the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort," Harry told him.

"Yes, perhaps I will let you live for what you have done to my wife," Severus said soft and dangerous.

"Your wife? Granger? That's rich," Draco said with a laugh. Severus was tempted to break his arrogant nose.

"You didn't know she was married to Snape?" Harry asked, looking puzzled, at least more than he normally did.

"I've been on the run for ten years, Potter. Sorry if I haven't had time to read the social column. I'm not surprised that a traitor would marry a Mudblood, though I never would have guessed it to be Granger."

"Don't call her that!" Severus said, lunging for him. Harry grabbed him, holding him back. Severus stopped, trying to compose himself. It would not do to kill him before they had their information. "I'll kill you for what you did to her—a slow, agonizing death, Draco," he said soft and dangerous.

Draco tried to look brave, but he was no Gryffindor, his eyes betraying his fear. Severus might have spied for the Order of the Phoenix, but he had been a Death Eater at one time. He was still capable of many things.

"But what were you doing in London four months ago?" Ron asked, obviously trying to bring them back round to the point of the evening.

Draco turned from Severus to scowl at Weasley. He was much safer to taunt him than his former Head of House. "I wasn't in London. Why would I come back here?" he said.

"You did just now," Harry pointed out.

"Because you cut off my source of money, and…because I thought you might do something to my mother because of me." Draco admitted, his face turning red at the admission.

"So how did you kidnap Hermione then?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed. "I didn't hurt your bushy-haired Mudblood friend, Potter. Try and keep up. You have the wrong person."

It wasn't Malfoy. Hermione hadn't been hurt because she had come too close to discovering the Death Eater on the run. But then why? They were right back at square one.

"Then who?" he snarled.

"Don't know and I don't care," Draco said. Severus stormed from the room, nearly knocking over Narcissa who had been standing with her ear to the door.

"Snape! Snape, where are you going?" Potter yelled after him. He followed Severus into the vestibule.

"Home. I'm going home to my wife and telling her I have NO IDEA who has done this to her. And I have NO IDEA how to fix it!" he whispered, barely reining in his anger and frustration. And then he stormed down to the gate where he Apparated back to Hogwarts.

He expected to find Hermione in their rooms. The walk from the gate to the castle, and then down to the dungeons had cooled his temper slightly, but he still dreaded telling her where he had been, even wondering if it would be necessary. Surely, Potter would inform her later, and by avoiding it tonight, he would also avoid the conversation-sure-to-turn-into-an-argument about how he had left her behind at the party.

But she wasn't there. The rooms were as they left them before the party—the robes she had tried on but had rejected lying across the bed, his papers spread out on the couch where he had sat waiting for her to get ready. None of it had been touched.

Where was she? He massaged his temples as he paced the floor. He should be glad for the time to think, the time to come up with a plan on dealing with her, on what their next move should be, but he wasn't. There was a niggling feeling in his stomach, something that told him all was not right.

He didn't want to appear overbearing but he didn't think he would rest until she was at home with him. He needed her calming presence. She always knew just what to do to make him feel better. Even without her memories, she had retained that ability. And though he dreaded telling her about tonight, he still wanted her close by.

Deciding to go back to the party and fetch her, he stepped into the fireplace. The party was still in full-swing when he stepped out of the Floo. The music blared, couples were dancing, and the alcohol appeared to be flowing freely from the state of several partygoers who greeted him enthusiastically. No one sober would dare approach him in such a manner, a persona that had been carefully cultivated over many years. Dusting the soot off his robes, he scanned the crowd for Hermione's distinctive bushy hair. But she was nowhere to be found.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked McGonagall. She seemed to be the only person in the room who wasn't close to falling over. He expected he would be hearing from them all tomorrow when they would want his 'special' headache potions.

"She got a letter and left straight away. I assumed it was from you. Albus told me you found Malfoy tonight."

"No, it wasn't from me. She didn't say who?"

Minerva shook her head. "She asked where you were. She was pretty upset that you had gone without her, and then she muttered something about being an Auror once, nothing she couldn't handle, and she left."

"And you let her?" he hissed.

"I couldn't have stopped her. Really, I assumed she was going after you," Minerva said indignantly.

"Well, she didn't come looking for me. There must have been something in that letter about new information about her case. And now she's out there alone, and no one knows where!" He was yelling now. The din in the room quieted to an uncomfortable silence as the party guests turned to stare at him. He scowled at them. Idiots, all of them! He left for two minutes and they let his Hermione leave on a potentially dangerous mission by herself.

But he would deal with them later. At the moment, he had to find Hermione. If it had been less than two hours ago then he could trace her Apparation trail and follow her. He sent a quick Envoyas Charm to let Potter know what was going on and then waved his wand around the sidewalk outside the front door.

There! Someone had Apparated recently from the front porch to…to Ottery St. Catchpole. That wasn't Hermione's but a Weasley's. He tried again, finally coming across a faint trace of an Apparation to the northern highlands. This must be it. Hoping Potter would bring Aurors as back-up, preferably the two big ones who had wrestled Draco to the floor, he popped out of existence.

Severus followed her trail to a ramshackle shack on the side of a hill. The loud pop of his own Apparation banished any hope of sneaking in and taking anyone by surprise. The door swung open, a shadowed figure standing on the threshold. Severus could see Hermione tied to a chair inside.

"I've been expecting you, Snape," a gravelly old voice barked. It could only belong to one person—Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

* * *

A/N: Congratulations to everyone who guessed Moody before now, especially **Zara** who started guessing that it washim back in Chapter Three, making me wonder if I had made it too obvious. You deserve some sort of prize. Thanks to Larilee for beta reading! And to everyone who reviews.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

This had been about him. Hermione hadn't been attacked because she had come close to discovering Malfoy. Nor because Percy was upset at her refusal. She had been attacked because of him, his past crimes. The weight of this discovery washed over Severus, nearly drowning him in despair. He didn't deserve her. He had never deserved her.

"I'm the one you want, Moody. Let her go." He watched Moody in the doorway, his wand drawn and ready. Moody may be old, but he was still sharp, and as paranoid as he was, he was very dangerous.

"Come in and we'll discuss it," Moody answered, backing into the room and standing next to where Hermione sat bound. Severus entered cautiously. The room was a wreck. Furniture was shoved into corners, half-empty bottles of Ogden's Firewhisky lay in piles around the room, and a wealth of Foe-Glasses, Sneakoscopes, and Secrecy Sensors whined and rattled.

"Are you hurt?" Severus asked Hermione.

"No," she answered softly, shaking her head. He could tell she was frightened. Moody had taken her by surprise. Much like the first time, Severus surmised.

"What do you want, Moody?" he demanded.

"I want justice," the old Auror hissed. "You've escaped Azkaban too many times to count, Snape."

So that was what this was about. He had never believed him even after Dumbledore had vouched for him. He had protested his membership in the Order of the Phoenix. He had protested using any of the valuable information that Snape had risked his life to get. And he had protested him not being sent to prison.

"He's innocent," Hermione cried, struggling against the ropes that held her to the chair.

"He's hardly innocent, girl," Moody snarled, his wand still pointed squarely at Severus' chest.

"He was working for the Order," she argued.

"No, he was playing both sides, waiting to see who would win before choosing. Isn't that right, Snape?"

It was right. He had waited until the final moment, until Potter had killed the Dark Lord before making his allegiances known to the world. But he couldn't say that, couldn't just hand Moody ammunition like that. And he didn't dare admit that to Hermione—to his beloved wife, who just now trusted him again.

"That's in the past. We've moved on. The world has moved on. It's time for you to move on too, Alastor."

"I will move on when I've had justice, Snape. When the world recognizes you as the traitor and Death Eater that you truly are!"

"But why bring innocents into this? Why hurt Hermione? What has she ever done?" he asked, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. He was getting desperate. He couldn't fire off any curses at Moody without risking hitting Hermione.

"She helped you get off the first time, despite the overwhelming evidence I provided the Wizengamot with. You fooled them, just like you fooled her," Moody spat.

"That was you?" Hermione asked.

"They wouldn't listen when I told them that he was crooked, that Death Eaters don't just grow consciences. So I gave them something they couldn't ignore. Except that you came along and made sure they did just that, you meddlesome girl!" His hand twitched as his tone escalated. "And then I found other evidence—"

"What evidence?" Severus demanded. There was no other evidence. Anything that could implicate him as a supporter of the Dark Lord was easily explained away with his spying duties.

"I found a document, a journal to be more precise, from a woman claiming to be your lover during the war. She had written down all sorts of juicy confessions you made while in her bed, Snape." Severus stood aghast. There had been no woman. Nothing but quick dalliances until Hermione, certainly no one he would have confided in. "I brought it to the Ministry myself, dropped it off anonymously, and waited for news of a new trial."

"What happened to it?" Severus asked panicked. Even if it wasn't real, combined with the other evidence the Wizengamot could have a convincing circumstantial case against him. But if they had the journal, then why hadn't they acted yet. It had been months since then, and this was the first Severus was hearing of it.

"I destroyed it," Hermione said in a flat voice. She blinked, and looked up at Moody.

"What?" Severus stared at her. Had she remembered something else?

"You made it up. You created it just like you did the Envoyas Spell," Hermione accused him.

"That's what you said the first time. And I had to erase your memory. I couldn't have you going around telling people that."

"I thought I had seen you in London, and then that journal turned up. It was too big of a coincidence. I had to investigate. I went looking for you."

"But I found you first," Moody continued. "When you wouldn't listen to reason, I was forced to do something drastic." He chuckled at the memory of it, making him sound as mad as his moniker claimed him to be.

"I knew it was you the first time around. But I didn't say anything. You were a respected Auror, driven mad by the war. I didn't think you deserved to go on trial for falsifying evidence against Severus. We were happy. And you lived alone where you couldn't hurt anyone else, but then that diary showed up—" Hermione recounted.

"If you would have just stayed out the way. If you would have just married Weasley instead of this Death Eater, none of this would have happened," Moody said with a tremor in his voice. He sounded almost remorseful, for what, Severus was afraid to find out.

"But why bring her here now?" Severus asked. He was still confused on this point. Moody had barely escaped being caught the last time. Why risk it again? But mad men have no common sense, driven only by their obsessive desires, in Moody's case, his desire to see Snape convicted.

"To kill her. I'll make it look like you did it. The members of the Wizengamot can hardly ignore a dead body, can they? The idea came to me the first time I captured her. I held her for days, waiting for you to make your move. But you never came looking for her, did you? So I had to Obliviate her instead," Moody answered with a gleam in his eye.

"You held her for a week?" Severus asked, feigning disbelief, anything to keep the old man talking. "I don't believe you. I've lived with her long enough to know that that would be near impossible. If you _could_ restrain her for that time period, she would drive you batty with her constant nattering."

Hermione gave an indignant huff, and Severus' eyes moved from Moody's wand to her face. He desperately wanted to be able to tell her that it was the truth. She had driven him batty every moment he had known her, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He would hardly be able to tell he was alive otherwise. Somehow, she got the message, because the corners of her lips crept up the slightest bit, and she mouthed the words he loved to hear.

_I love you._

It was two seconds, at the most. But he cherished them. With a slight nod, he turned his full attention back to Moody who was speaking.

"She's a fighter all right. I kept her stunned most of the time. She went with me easy enough at first. Said she wanted to 'discuss' some things. I brought her back here, held her until the Ministry made a move on the journal. When nothing happened for days, I woke her up and asked her what she had done. That's when I decided to kill her, but I needed you. And you never came looking for her."

"Is that true?" Hermione whispered. His heart fell. He could lose her tonight in more ways than one if he wasn't careful.

"I thought you had left me, Hermione. I couldn't bear the thought of you with another man, but I didn't want to come between you and your happiness if that's what you decided," Severus said. She bit her lip, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

"You wouldn't have fought for me?"

"I am now." How he wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her. He hadn't been certain of her love before, not through any fault of her own, but because he had never let himself acknowledge just how much he needed her. To say it, to even think it would be admitting a weakness. And in doing that, he had missed how much she needed him in return.

"Enough!" Moody barked. "It's time to end this."

He pointed his wand at Hermione. Severus' heart pounded in his chest and his mouth went dry. He knew it would only take two words from the old man. Two words and he would be alone in the world, without his best friend, his lover, his one and only ally.

"You would kill me when I've done nothing wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice soft and low.

"Aiding and abetting a known Death Eater is an offense punishable by a Dementor's Kiss. And since the courts refuse to do their duty, then I shall do it for them."

"Then you are not the Alastor Moody that I knew of, the one who would rather take a Death Eater in by sheer force than use an Unforgivable." That gave the Auror pause.

And it was just enough time for Severus to throw a hex. Moody wheeled around, his reflexes like a cat, and threw up a shield. Severus' spell bounced off it, and he had to dart to the side from being hit with it himself. Ducking Moody's own curse, he straightened back up and summoned all the hatred he could muster.

"_Avada Ke_—"

"Noooo!" Hermione screamed at him. She bounced back and forth in her chair, trying to get away from their dueling. "You'll only prove his point!" she yelled as he threw up his own shield against Moody's onslaught. He remembered her words in Diagon Alley.

"_I'll kill him!"_

"_Then you'll go to Azkaban and leave me alone_."

He would not let that happen. He would fight for her like the honorable and brave man she believed him to be. He would prove himself worthy of her love.

The two circled the room, exchanging curse after curse. The Sneakoscopes whined and smoke from the various hexes filled the room, beginning to make it difficult to see. Severus's skin burned as boils rose up on his arms and face. Blood dripped from Moody's nose and from other slashes across his chest.

"Not afraid to die are you, Snape? Your Death Eater friends aren't here to save you this time, nor the Order of the Phoenix." Moody taunted. "Are you afraid to show the world what you really are? A cowardly traitor."

He wasn't afraid to die. He wasn't even in this moment afraid of bearing his soul to the world. He was most afraid that Moody would indeed succeed in killing Hermione.

"I'm certainly not afraid of you, old man!" he snarled in return. "Though you're hardly a man, preying on an unarmed woman who trusted you."

Moody didn't respond but threw another curse, this time a Tarantella Spell. Severus tripped over some bottles, his feet moving in a frantic dance pattern beyond his control.

"Watch out!" Hermione screamed in warning as he righted himself.

"_Protego_," he shouted just in time to deflect Moody's Slashing Hex. But the curse bounced off his shield and across the room, hitting Hermione square in the chest. With nothing to defend herself, the force of the blow knocked her and her chair over.

Severus stood and cast a Confundus Charm. Moody stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the wall for support.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Severus said, watching with satisfaction as the old man toppled forward and landed on his broken nose. He rushed over to Hermione. She had lost a lot of blood, the gashes down her chest and stomach oozed with blood. A small puddle had collected on the floor next to her. She was trembling, and her face was pale as a sheet so that even her lips were void of color.

"Hold on, Hermione. Let me get you out of these," he said, murmuring the charm that released the ropes. She slid out of the chair and into his arms.

"Severus," she moaned.

"I'm here, I'm here. You're going to be fine," he said. He gently laid her down on the floor. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped her in it. She was going into shock, and he needed to get her to St. Mungo's as soon as possible.

"I love you," she moaned.

"I love you too," he answered. "Now I'm going to take you to the hospital where they are going to fix you up right, and when we get back to Hogwarts I'll shag you wherever you like." She smiled, but it wasn't enough to erase the pain sketched on her face. "Ready?"

She closed her eyes and nodded, bracing herself as he scooped her up into his arms.

He Apparated them into the lobby of St. Mungo's. "Help me! This is an emergency!" he called out as they popped into existence. Within moments, he was surrounded by Healers. They took her from his arms, and placed her on a stretcher.

"What happened?" a tall blond woman asked while two others frantically checked her vital signs. Her badge identified her as Joan Trauth, but she hardly looked competent to Severus. She seemed familiar. Had he taught her? Certainly, she couldn't be qualified or experienced enough for his Hermione. The other two wizards shouted out what seemed to be random numbers and foreign medical words, none of which sounded hopeful. Severus edged his way in between them, and took Hermione's hand in his. It was cold as ice, and she limply returned his hold.

"She was hit with a stray Slashing Hex," he answered the Healer, never taking his eyes off Hermione. "Will you ever forgive me?" he asked quietly. Guilt ate at him, the thought that all of this was because of him.

"I already have," she rasped. He choked back a sob. He liked to think he wasn't an emotional man. But it was moments like this when he could barely maintain control. He didn't deserve her. He never had.

"Everything is going to be just fine," he whispered to her, unsure of who he was trying to convince more, her or himself. She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting close.

"It looks bad. Did she have any protection at all?"

"No, none. She was tied to a chair."

"Someone send for an Auror as well," the Healer said, turning around to the welcome witch's desk.

"Potter," Severus said, finally turning away from Hermione. "She's a personal friend of Harry Potter. He's already working on this case." The Healer nodded. With a wave of her wand, she directed the stretcher down the hall through double swinging doors.

Severus tried to follow after her but a tall aide stopped him. "You can't go back there," he said.

Severus glared at him. "She is my wife!"

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, not looking very sorry at all.

"Let me through, I'm Severus Snape!"

"I don't care if you are the Queen of England herself, you're not getting through there. You can wait in the waiting room like everyone else." Severus scowled, turned on his heel, and threw himself into a chair. The aide smirked, satisfied in having done his duty and then sauntered through the doors after Hermione and her Healers.

Potter arrived half an hour later. Some old hag who claimed to be a Healer was trying to rid him of the boils Moody had left behind. Severus stood and pushed her away when he saw him, shaking with rage. She scurried off, no doubt tired of his griping, and frightened by this show of temper.

"You're too late, Potter," he spat. Why had that idiot boy not realized it had been Moody? They had been tracking Malfoy this whole time for nothing! For NOTHING!

"Is Hermione okay? Is she alive?" Harry asked, ignoring Snape's sarcasm.

"She was alive when I last saw her, though barely. No thanks to Alastor Moody."

"Moody? Mad-Eye Moody?" Potter stood with his mouth hanging open. "I—but how—why?" he stuttered.

"In some misguided attempt at revenge. He was trying to get at me. At ME! And now she's in there…." He sat down again, his legs no longer supporting him. The same traitorous thoughts that had plagued him from the moment he stood in front of that ramshackle hut threatened to overwhelm him, to turn him into a quivering wreck of emotion here in front of everyone in the waiting room, in front of Potter.

"Have they told you anything?" Harry asked.

Severus shook his head. "Nothing."

"Maybe they will talk to me," Potter said, marching off down the hall. Severus watched him go, for once not irritated with his arrogant swagger, hoping that this time it would work in his favor.

Slumping in his chair, he wished he had something to numb the pain. He couldn't handle this. It hurt too much. He knew—He _knew_ when she kissed him that first time that it would not end well. Hadn't he warned her? But she refused to listen.

"_You don't really want to stay with me," he said._

"_Don't presume to know what I want, Severus Snape," she said imperiously._

"_I'm old," he told her. She stepped closer and put her arms around him._

"_I like to think of you as experienced. Think of all the things I can learn from you," she said. He snorted. Just like her to phrase it like that. Her curiosity was insatiable._

"_I'm ugly," he argued even as his arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her closer._

"_I'm no beauty myself. I think we're even when it comes to hair, both equally bad." She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on the tip of his beaky nose._

"_I'm mean."_

"_I'm bossy."_

"_I'm not kidding, Hermione. I'm not a nice man," he said, pushing her away, although his hands remained at her waist._

"_I don't want nice, Snape." She grabbed one of his hands, taking it in hers, bringing it to her lips. "I want brave, honorable, intelligent, funny, and sexy." With each word, she kissed a fingertip, slipping them between her lips. He shivered. How could he say no to that? _

He couldn't and he didn't. He was none of those things she had listed, but he had ignored that, choosing to believe her. And looked where it had gotten her—her memories stolen and dying in a hospital.

Standing up abruptly, he startled some of the people around him, but he couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't sit here and do nothing. Except that he couldn't leave either. What if she needed him? He paced back and forth like a caged lion. Pouncing on Potter when he came back through the door, Severus grabbed him by the front of his robes.

"What did you find out?"

"They won't let me see her, but I did talk to her Healer," Harry answered, pulling away. "She's in critical condition, but they think she'll pull through," he told him as he straightened his collar.

"Can I see her?"

"Not yet. Not until morning," Harry said, looking sympathetic. "She's going to be fine. You have to believe that." Severus opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by multiple Apparations. Ron Weasley, Dumbledore, Minerva, Molly, and Arthur appeared in front of him, all of them still in their party wear.

"We got your owl. Is she okay?" Harry repeated what he had told Severus, and there was a collective sigh of relief.

"You don't have to stay," he grumbled when it appeared they were attempting to make themselves comfortable in the hard plastic seats. Dumbledore had gone as far as conjuring an armchair and was passing around a bowl of popcorn.

"Of course we do," Molly Weasley said with a pat on his arm. "We wouldn't let you sit out here to worry by yourself. You'd go crazy. I would." Her eyes glistened, and Severus knew he couldn't turn them away no matter how much he might want to. They loved and cared for Hermione too.

"She's a strong girl. She'll come through, I guarantee it," Arthur said.

Severus nodded, taking their unwanted comfort in stride. It was rather nicer to have someone else around, if nothing else for the benefit of having a distraction to block out. Tuning their meaningless chatter out, he concentrated on the happier memories of Hermione, like the first time she had shown him the hidden garden…

_"Close your eyes," she commanded._

_"I will do no such thing." He had no idea why they were standing in the cold in front of an empty wall in the first place. If her idea of a surprise included freezing to death, he wanted no part in it._

_"You are no fun," she pouted._

_"Of course I am, when I'm warm, well-fed, and preferably inside," he said, shivering. He blew on his hands in a poor attempt to warm them. Even his thick woolen mittens were doing nothing against the Scottish winter._

_"You were just complaining the other day about the dreary grey weather, so I thought you might want a change." She began tapping her wand in an odd manner on the wall. Severus looked longingly back up towards the entrance to the castle._

_"I complain about everything, surely you know this by now."_

_"Yes, I do. But if there is something to be done about it, then I will at least try. Now. Close. Your. Eyes." _

_He relented if only to keep from hearing her whine. The faster she showed him whatever it was the faster he could be back by his fire. And since she seemed to be in an obliging mood, preferably with her in his lap._

_When he opened his eyes, the snow and grey skies had been replaced with green, lots and lots of green. _

_"Where are we?" he asked, stepping through the arch. A warm breeze brushed his face as Hermione fingers wound through his._

_"A secret garden…our secret garden," she said. "It's summer all year long." He smiled. She knew how much he appreciated summer. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her. She kissed him back, and then took him by the hand and led him to a blanket she had laid out._

They had had many happy memories in that garden. He hoped they would have many more.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Severus, Severus." A persistent voice broke him from his reverie. He snapped his head up to see all eyes on him.

"What?" he barked.

"What happened? Harry said that it was Moody that attacked Hermione," Arthur asked.

"I should probably take your statement," Potter said.

"Now?" Reliving the night's events was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

"Might as well. I can get the Dicto-Quill out to record it officially," Harry said, reaching into his bag. Once he had everything set up, he nodded to Severus. Severus looked at him suspiciously and then began. He told them about the coming home to empty rooms, looking for Hermione at the party, the frantic search for her Apparation trail, finding her tied up in Moody's shack, and Alastor's disturbing confession.

"You just left him there?" Molly shrieked. Severus glared at her.

"Someone will need to be sent over to pick him up," Harry said. He shrugged his shoulders when Molly turned away, and for once Severus didn't feel the need to hex the insolent twit. He understood why Severus had left Moody there. Hermione was much more important.

"You said she remembered the first attack?" Ron asked. Severus looked over at him. He had said that. The implications of that hadn't occurred to him at the time. "Then maybe she'll remember everything else," Ron finished brightly.

Severus stared at him. He was hardly concerned with her memories at the moment. He cared more that she lived. She hadn't looked good when they had taken her away.

"Yes, maybe," he said. He tried not to think about anything other than her getting well. But if Weasley was right…he could not only have her well but with her memories. The nightmare of the last several months would finally be over. But she had to live first, and even that was questionable at the moment.

The rest of group latched onto this tidbit, and speculated and analyzed it until it was more than Severus could stand. Clenching his fists, he tried to block them out. They were there for hours. Molly tried to get him to eat something, but he pushed it away, too consumed with thoughts of Hermione to be able to chew and swallow properly. He thought about the last time Hermione had been in St. Mungo's…

_"I want you to hand in your resignation. This cannot continue," he told her. She opened her eyes to glare at him._

_"We have discussed this before, and I am not quitting my job, Severus Snape." By Merlin, she made an irritating patient. Actually, she was a damned irritating wife—constantly trying to get herself killed. Some days he regretted marrying someone with a hero complex, or heroine in this case. Not that he shouldn't have been forewarned from her escapades in her school days. He cursed at her. She reached out and grabbed for his hand._

_"I'm going to be just fine," she said, squeezing his hand. Her voice was softer now. She was using her 'pacify Severus' tone._

_"Maybe this time, but what about the next?"_

_"Severus, I am going to be fine. It's just a few bumps and bruises." _

_But it wasn't. If it was then she would be home with him, moaning and complaining as he applied ointment like he normally did. He argued with her then too. _

"_As long as I have you, I'll be fine," she said, her voice trailing off. He could see she was drifting off to sleep, the effect of so many potions. He held onto her hand, summoning a chair, and watched her sleep. _

_I'm going to be fine_

_I'm going to be fine_

_As long as I have you, I'll be fine_

The mantra played over and over in his head, interrupted only by the sibilant hiss of someone calling his name.

"Snape? Mr. Snape?" a nurse called. Severus jerked. He must have fallen asleep. Looking around, he could see that Arthur, Molly, and Minerva had left. Dumbledore dozed in the comfort of his armchair while Potter and Weasley stood in the corner drinking coffee. They came over quickly when they heard the nurse.

"It's Professor Snape," he snapped, rubbing his stiff neck. These chairs were not the ideal place for sleeping.

"The Healer would like to speak to you now." He stood and she ushered him through the door. "You'll have to wait. Only family at the moment is allowed to see her." Severus smirked at that as Ron and Harry sputtered about being as close to family as one could get.

His minor triumph didn't last long however. He entered her room to see her lying tucked into bed, her face as pale as the sheets.

"Is she…?"

"She'll live," the Healer said. It was the same from before, Joan Trauth. A wave of relief washed over him. "But…."

"But what?" he asked sharply, spinning around to face her.

"She had problems with her memory before, correct?" Severus nodded. "I talked to Poppy Pomfrey about the relapses. They appeared to occur when she was under undue stress…" The Healer paused, her eyes straying from his own to a spot on the wall just behind him. It was the look his students got as they decided between a lie and a particularly troublesome truth.

He glared at her. "What?" he barked,

"Her injuries alone were extensive, but after hearing the events of last night…it sounded very stressful."

"Then she won't…?" He didn't finish the sentence, didn't want to speak the words out loud.

"Most likely not."

"But she'll live."

"We've managed to stabilize her. But she lost a lot of blood," she explained.

"You're giving her a Blood Replenishing Potion?" Severus asked.

"Yes. We'll need to keep an eye on her for a couple of days, but I'm confident that she'll pull through."

Severus nodded and turned from the Healer to Hermione. He heard the woman walk away. Then the door clicked shut and he was alone with her. Slowly, he sank into the chair next to her bed. Taking her hand in his, he marveled at how small it was compared to his own. He turned it over and brushed his fingers against her palm. She didn't respond, lying perfectly still in the bed. He paused at the ring on her fourth finger. Turning her hand back over, he inspected the gold band, rubbing his thumb over it. With a sigh, he leaned back and remembered the day he had first put it on her.

_She was wearing gauzy white robes with pearly buttons all the way up the back. Her hair was pulled up into a complicated knot with flowers tucked into it, perfect but for a few wispy tendrils that had escaped and kissed the nape of her neck in much the same way he would like to. Her hands fluttered the way they always did when she was nervous, stilling only when he took them in his. And her bottom lip that had been caught between her teeth pulled free and curved upward into a warm smile as her eyes met his. _

_A few dozen people sat in the room, still a bit stunned to learn that it was not a party they had been invited to, but a wedding. Hermione hadn't wanted to hear the desperate pleas not to marry him, so they had kept it all a secret._

_He responded at the right time, saying the right things, but he wouldn't know it later but for the fact that they were truly married. His attention was focused fully on Hermione and he was still amazed that she was standing here with him committing the rest of her life to him._

_He almost missed his moment, and Hermione had to prod him into action, nudging him to take the ring from the magistrate and repeat the words as he slipped it onto her finger._

"_I, Severus Snape, take you Hermione Granger as my constant friend, faithful partner, and my one true love. In the presence of these witnesses, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live."_

"Sir, sir," a voice interrupted his thoughts. He twisted around to see, a curse on his lips, but it wasn't the Healer but a young woman, a nurse with frizzy brown hair and an upturned nose. She almost looked like Hermione except that her eyes were the wrong color, emerald green instead of cinnamon brown.

"What do you want?"

"I need to give her the next dose of her potion. And Healer Trauth would like to speak to you.

He nodded. Relinquishing Hermione's hand with great reluctance, he leaned over and kissed her knuckles before following the nurse out of the room.

"Professor Snape," Healer Trauth greeted him. A woman with a straight back and tight bun stood next to her. She was dressed in the lime green robes of a Healer and her name tag read Dorcas Egbar. She might remind Severus of Minerva McGonagall except that she was lacking any warmth in her eyes. "I wanted you to meet Healer Egbar. She is in charge of the Long-Term Spell Damage Ward."

She extended her hand. Severus stared at it and then looked her squarely in the eye and said, "No."

"We need to discuss the options available to you and your wife, Mister Snape."

"It's Professor Snape," he spat. "And I will be taking Hermione home with me as soon as she is well enough. I will brook no argument."

"And what if she is too ill for you to take care of her? What if she wakes up and remembers nothing, including you?" Egbar asked.

"Then you will have failed in your job, and I will personally ensure that you never work again," he said softly, edging closer as he tried to intimidate them with his height. Egbar's face screwed up in distaste while Trauth turned red and started sputtering.

"We are just trying to prepare you for all eventualities. We want the best for Mrs. Snape," the younger Healer tried to reassure him. He was not reassured.

"Can I see her again today?" he asked, changing the topic. In his mind, they were through with this particular conversation.

"Ye…" Healer Trauth started to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, _Mister_ Snape," Egbar cut her off. "Mrs. Snape will need her rest. You should go home, consider what will be the best for her rather than what will be the best for you, and come back in the morning."

"Fine, but I imagine my conclusions will be the same. And may I point out that all this will be moot if she wakes up and remembers everything. We are working with conjecture at the moment and nothing more. I will continue to hope that she will remember me and our life together."

He spun around and marched down the hall. He didn't stop until he was outside. With a pop, he Apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts. He stormed past students, ignored Flitwick when he asked how Hermione was, slammed the door to their rooms, and Summoned the Ogden's. Sinking into the couch, he poured a glass and drank deeply.

What if the Healers were right? What if Hermione never remembered? Despite his brave face and menacing threats, Severus was shaken to the core. Several hours and drinks later, Potter stepped through his fireplace. His hand twitched towards his wand but he was too drunk to care.

"They've taken Moody into custody. He was raving like a lunatic," Harry said with no introduction. He sat in the armchair across from Severus with no invitation.

"He is a lunatic," Severus slurred.

"Testimony from you and Hermione will be more than enough to lock him away."

"If she remembers," he grumbled. He reached around for his glass but ended up knocking it to the floor instead. It shattered against the stone flagstone floor.

"_Evanesco_," Harry said with a wave of his wand. The broken glass disappeared. "And what if she doesn't? What then? Will you chuck her aside?" he accused.

"No!"

"Then it doesn't matter," Harry argued. Severus scowled at both his accusations and intrusion into his pity party. "Merlin, you're pathetic."

This time Severus made a greater effort to reach for his wand. He had just gotten it in his hand when Potter's lazy Expelliarmus snatched it away.

"Go away, Potter," he sneered.

"Hermione hates it when you get like this," Harry said, making no move to leave as far as Severus could see.

"Like what?" Severus scowled. What was the idiot boy talking about now? His mind was too addled with alcohol to try and figure it out.

"This—" Harry motioned with his hand, pointing at Severus and the empty bottle of firewhisky—"Moping around and drinking too much. She would tell us, 'Severus is in one of his moods again,' and then she would wrinkle her nose and frown."

"She discussed our marriage?" Severus said angrily. If she wasn't lying in a hospital fighting for her life, he might have been angry enough to yell and shout. She knew he was a private man.

"She never gave us many details, thank Merlin," Harry said in an attempt to mollify him. "There are things we didn't want to know, and the less we heard about you the easier it was to pretend she wasn't married to you at all."

"She _is_ married to me," Severus argued.

"I know, but how did you like it when she talked about me or Ron?"

"Not at all," he grumbled, but he marveled at the way she compartmentalized her life. How much had he missed out on because she felt she couldn't tell him things. He remembered Arthur saying something about lunches with her on a weekly basis and not knowing anything about that. What else didn't he know?

"I've got to go," Harry said, standing.

"Finally," Severus muttered. He had overstayed his welcome the minute he had arrived.

"I just wanted you to know about Moody, and you'll let us know the first thing you hear about Hermione?"

Severus nodded.

"And no more drinking for you. Hermione wouldn't like it," Harry said as he threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. Severus watched him disappear in a flash, and then looked down at his bottle of firewhisky. He was right; she wouldn't like it. It was a good thing he was already out then.

&&&&

He didn't make it to bed that night, staying on the couch and staring into the fire until his drunken haze faded into a restless sleep. He awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a new resolve. As much as he hated to admit it, Potter was right. Hermione wouldn't like to see him like this. He knew he didn't deserve her, but she had chosen him, for whatever reason, and he could at least do her the honor of working to be the man she needed. And right now that meant someone who was lucid and by her side.

And on sniffing himself, someone who was clean and didn't smell of stale whisky and body odor. He downed some Hangover Potion, took a quick shower, changed into fresh robes, and headed back to St. Mungo's.

She remained unchanged, still fighting to hang on, the nurses still coming in every half hour to tip any number of potions down her throat.

Severus sat at her bedside, her hand cradled in both of his. "I never told you the rest of our story," he said softly. "The part where you made me yours."

She didn't respond, laying there still and motionless. But he continued anyway.

_After that first kiss up against the bookcase, Severus had led Hermione to the sofa. She had started out sitting next to him, but as each kiss deepened in intensity, he pressed her back down into the soft cushions._

_She tasted like alcohol, and even as he continued to press kisses to her mouth, jaw, and neck, he wondered if she would regret this in the morning._

_"What will you do now?" she asked when they paused to draw breath._

_"Now?" At the moment, he'd like to kiss her some more._

_"Will you stay and teach? Or work somewhere else?"_

_"No one but Albus is dumb enough to hire me," he said in a low rumble as she kissed her way down his Adam's apple. _

_"You could run away to the Caribbean," she suggested with a smile. He scowled at the thought of having to put on a bathing suit. He tried changing the focus from him to her. _

_"What about you? What will you do, Hermione?"_

_"I think I want to be an Auror. Any other job would be too boring after the last several years."_

_"I expect I shall be saving you again in the future," he said, raising an eyebrow._

_"I look forward to it," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for another blazing kiss._

_"Troublesome girl," he growled against her mouth. _

_They lay like that, kissing until she complained he was squashing her. A quick rearrangement of bodies and limbs, and she lay curled up next to him, her head on his chest, tucked up underneath his chin. He held her in his arms, rubbing her back and listening to her murmur nonsense about various and sundry. _

_He only noticed that she had fallen asleep when he tried to shift positions. He considered waking her up, but decided against it. She might regret it in the morning, but he wanted to enjoy the night with her in his arms. Hermione—his saving angel. He might never admit it, but he had been proud of her today in that courtroom, the way in which she faced up to the Wizengamot in his defense. He was thankful and the least he could do was let her sleep in peace. He drifted off to sleep, his dreams quiet for the first time in years._

"_Oh," Hermione moaned the next morning, "my head is pounding." She lay nearly completely on top of him, her elbows digging into his gut and her hair tickling his nose and getting into his mouth._

"_That is what happens when you drink too much, Miss Granger," he grumbled. That and other things like kissing your greasy ex-professors. His neck ached from the odd angle he had slept, and he reached behind to rub at it. There were reasons why people slept in beds and not on couches._

"_You called me Hermione last night," she said with a pout. She sat and looked down at him. _

"_That was last night when we had too much to drink," he said, sitting up next to her. He tried not to look at her as he attempted to rearrange his robes._

"_I'm grotty and gross," she said, ignoring his last statement. "Can I use your shower?" _

_He nodded and pointed to the bedroom door. "It's through there." He hoped she would shower and leave quickly. He had enjoyed last night, but with the garish light of day came realistic expectations—she would not be sticking around. After several long minutes contemplating the matter, he rose and went into the bedroom to change into fresh robes. _

_He stood rifling through his wardrobe when Hermione exited the bathroom. Severus turned around and watched her walk to the bed. He started to say something but then realized that she didn't know he was there. Standing in just a towel, her wet hair dripped down her back. She whispered some cleaning spells over her robes, and then to Severus' great surprise, (and pleasure,) she dropped her towel. Stepping further back into the shadows to avoid detection, he gazed upon the curve of her spine down to her round bottom. His eyes slid over her well-defined calves poised over slender ankles. She hummed a happy tune as she pulled on her robes._

_Turning around, she buttoned them up slowly, giving Severus a peek at the fullness of her breasts. His breath caught in his throat at the sight._

"_Can I see you tonight?" she asked, finishing with the last button and walking towards where he stood in the corner. _

_He nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise. She had known all along that he was in the room watching her—the little vixen! Her little display had been a private showing just for him._

_It excited him—the idea that she would want him. But he wasn't sure how to proceed. How to go about this with the least amount of hurt? There was bound to be some. It was inevitable in all relationships, Severus had found._

"_My refusal has never failed to stop you before," he sneered, but it was only half-hearted. She must have spotted the difference or didn't care because she leaned up to kiss his cheek._

"_No, it hasn't," she said. "See you tonight."_

_He allowed himself to bring a hand up and brush his knuckles across her cheek. "Tonight," he said with a nod. She smiled a great big radiant smile, one that might have irritated him except that she had just kissed him. And then she turned and skipped out the door, only to return that night. And the next. And the next. Until she never left. _

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over," a nurse said, sticking her head in the door. Severus turned and glared at her, satisfied to see her scurry away. He leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the forehead, brushing away a lock of hair first.

"Goodnight," he whispered as his lips brushed her skin. He would be back tomorrow. And the next. And the next. Until she came home.

&&&&

A week later, an owl flew through the window just as Severus arrived home. Albus had excused the Potions master from teaching and he had been spending most of his time at Hermione's side. Molly and Arthur had been at the hospital today as well and had insisted that he come home with them for dinner. Molly was a scary thing when food was being offered and the irritation he felt over the pressing crowd of never ending redheads had been a welcome respite from the worry.

Even still, he grabbed at the letter anxiously, earning himself a sharp nip from the barn owl. He brought his finger to his mouth, while he read the letter. It was from Hermione's Healer. She had woken up. Severus turned and went immediately back into the Floo.

He strode down the hall of St. Mungo's, his confident gait and swishing robes disguising the dread and fear that overcame him as he entered the Spell Damage Ward. Hermione's Healers had spoken to him twice more about extended care. And twice more he had ignored their exhortations. He searched around outside Hermione's room, but they were nowhere to be found. He caught a glimpse of the nurse from before coming out of another patient's room, the one who had reminded him of Hermione. He caught her eye as he reached for the door to Hermione's room. She shook her head, a sad sympathetic look on her face, in answer to his silent question. He nodded curtly back, then steeled himself. He could do this. He had to do this. He had made a vow seven years ago, "in sickness and in health," and he would honor it.

But what if she didn't want him? With a deep breath, he pushed open the door. Hermione sat on the bed, fiddling with her robes. She still looked pale, and she had lost some weight, but she smiled when she saw him. That was a good sign. Severus sat on the bed next to her.

"Hello. That nice woman out there told me my name is Hermione," she said, turning to look at him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Severus," he said. "I'm your husband." He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Would fate ever finish punishing him for his past crimes? He only wished that it was only him that they punished. Hermione didn't deserve this.

"I'm married?" she asked surprised. "I never would have thought."

"It surprised many, myself included," he admitted. They sat there in silence for several moments.

"You seem sad," she said. He looked at her, hiding his surprise.

"I am."

"Why?" How could he answer such a question? So forthright and simple, it cut straight to the heart of the matter, it was just like Hermione to ask such a thing of him. She never let him hide behind the fortress he had created for himself. She had broken through his defenses as a probing and relentless young woman, and even here in her confused state she insisted on playing the same role.

"I miss you," he said.

"But I'm right here," she said chuckling softly. She reached over and put her hand on his. He looked at it for a moment, before turning and grasping it firmly in his.

"I suppose you are."

"Hadn't you better kiss me?" she asked. He looked at her surprised. He didn't think she would want him around her at all, let alone kissing and touching her. But she looked so intent, that he leaned down, cupped her face, and brushed his lips against hers. She returned his advance by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"I love you," she breathed as he pulled away.

"How can you?" he asked.

"You're supposed to say I love you too," she said sternly.

"I love you too," he conceded.

"Good, now take me home," she said in her normal bossy manner. He looked at her in surprise. When they told him that she didn't remember this was the last thing that he expected. She busied herself with organizing the potion bottles the Healer had left for her.

"Hermione," he said, coming to stand behind her. She didn't respond until he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, right, that's me," she said turning around. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded. Her face turned red and her hands fluttered nervously. Catching them, he held them in his own. "You're not going to leave me here, are you? The Healer said that might be an option, that you might be too busy to take care of me. I promise I won't be a bother. I can clean, and I can…"

He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight to his chest, angry that the Healer would discuss such things with her without him being present. He had vowed to take care of her in sickness and in health, to love and protect her. He wasn't giving up the one thing in life that made him happy simply because she didn't remember. He had survived the last few months, hadn't he? And so had she. And so they would continue.

She sniffled a little and he could hear her still listing things she could do to be useful to him into the fabric of his robes. He nearly chuckled at her insistence that she could take good care of his books. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "Hermione, listen to me."

"Yes?" she asked, looking up. Her face was wet with tears, and she bit her lip in doubt.

"I love you and you love me. And nothing, I repeat, nothing is going to keep us apart. Do you understand?" he said in his best teacher voice.

"But I can't remember anything. I'll be a drain and a nuisance."

"Did the Healers tell you that?" he growled.

She nodded, her brow furrowing as she bit at her lip. "They said you wouldn't want me."

"Hermione, I highly doubt you will be a drain. You have always been a resourceful woman. You will find something to occupy your time. As for being a nuisance, you have been that since the first day I met you and I don't imagine that will change anytime soon. And I will always, always—" he repeated for emphasis—"want you," he told her.

Then he asked the question he had yet to ask before in their seven years of marriage, too afraid of what the answer might be. But he had to be sure this time. They had been given another chance and he wanted to do things right. "Do you want me?" he asked, stumbling a bit over the words.

She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Yes!"

Severus sighed in relief as she buried her head in his chest once more, babbling about something.

"What was that? I can't hear you," he said, tipping her chin up.

"I said I knew I loved you. I had to, didn't I? I married you after all, and I don't think I would have married anyone I wasn't truly mad for. I mean I just wouldn't, so I had to love you. It made sense. You make sense." She was rambling as she was wont to do when she was tired, overstressed, and excited. He stopped her mouth with his, and her excited babbling translated into a passionate embrace.

"Then it's settled. Let's go home, wife," he said when he had left her breathless.

She nodded, letting him take her hand, lead her from the room, and take her home.

The End.

* * *

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful beta Larilee! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! Sadly, the story does end here, though there will be a short epilogue later that gives a glimpse into their lives as they deal with Hermione's permanent memory loss. I hope you have enjoyed it, I know I have. Please leave a review either way, it's the only way I'll get better.


	17. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Fifteen years later…_

Severus settled into the couch in front of the fire, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Not for the first time he reveled in the fact that he owned his own home, that no students, Slytherin or otherwise, could interrupt his reading. He didn't miss Hogwarts one bit. He enjoyed every moment of living in Hogsmeade, brewing potions, and tending to his garden. And it was better for Hermione too. She had fewer relapses here.

He hated to think about those first few weeks after he had brought her home from the hospital. Some days she forgot everything—who he was, who she was, even that she was a witch. Those were the worst; even the littlest bit of magic frightened her. Other days, she regressed back to being a student, sneaking into classrooms (most often Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as those had been her favorites) and trying to answer questions. The students, for their part, adapted quickly. She was no less strange than staircases that moved or portraits that talked. She was an oddity like Peeves, though infinitely less troublesome. Some days if she didn't join him for dinner at the staff table, he would find her sitting with the Gryffindors, regaling the first years with stories about the famous Harry Potter. The older students would smile and quietly ignore her; they had heard it all before. But it didn't always end so peacefully. He remembered one morning that she awoke terrified to find Professor Snape sleeping next to her.

_A loud shriek woke him up. Sitting straight up in bed, he saw Hermione cowering in the corner. She had dragged the sheet from the bed with her, clutching it around her to hide the skin her skimpy nightgown left exposed, her wand poised and ready to hex him._

"_What's going on?" she demanded with fear in her eyes._

"_You're waking me up early on a Saturday," he growled. He was 'more patient' than before, but that didn't mean he was actually patient. "Come back to bed."_

"_No!" she shrieked. "How did I get here? Did I sleep with you? I mean, did we…did we? What is going on, Professor?" _

_He reached for his wand, trying not to notice that she flinched. He didn't point it at her, but towards the door that led to the living room, and Summoned the _Daily Prophet

"_Look down at your left hand, Hermione," he said gentler. She did, losing her grip on the sheet as she did so. Quickly, she hoisted it back up again. "That's a wedding ring."_

"_B-but how? I'm only a fifth year," she whispered, looking back up at him. The knocking on the door interrupted his answer. He pointed his wand again, and this time the door swung open, letting the hovering paper outside fly in. He deftly caught it, and then threw it to her. It landed in front of her, skidding to a stop at the edge of her toes._

"_Read that. You'll find the date a ways off from your fifth year. We were married several years after you left Hogwarts. You were attacked last year and your memories were affected. Go on, look at it," he urged, moving towards the door. She watched his every move with the look of a caged animal. It broke his heart to see her so frightened of him. Yes, he wanted his students to fear him, but not her, never her. He could hear her muttering about being expelled and how he would be fired. Despite the absurdness of it, he was touched that even in this state she was worried for his future as well as her own._

_He hurried through the living room and into his workroom where he kept the extra bottles of her potion. Conjuring a steaming cup of tea, he mixed it in, and headed back to the bedroom._

"_I still don't believe I would marry you," she said when he came back in. She sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her and the paper lying next to her._

"_No?" he said, sitting down next to her and handing her the mug. "Drink this, it will help you remember, and it has something to calm your nerves."_

"_You said my teeth were big," she accused, reminding him of her fourth year and his heartless comment to her in the hallway. They had had this argument before._

"_And you set fire to my robes first year, stole from me in your second, and attacked me your third."_

"_I'm sorry," she said, looking chagrined._

"_Don't be," he said, resting a hand on her knee. "You've more than made up for it. Now stop talking and drink up or I will deduct twenty points from Gryffindor," he said sternly._

"_Now there is the horribly mean Professor Snape I know and love," she said, instantly blushing at her words. "I didn't mean that. I mean…" she stammered. _

_He smirked in amusement. "Yes, you did. Now drink."_

_She finished off the cup, and then laid back, her eyes drifting shut. The potion always made her drowsy. He kissed her forehead, and then caught her legs, swinging them up onto the bed where he tucked her back in. He was tempted to crawl back in and join her, but she wouldn't be comfortable with that until the potion took effect. And now that he was awake, he might as well get some marking done._

It wasn't until later that they connected the fact that she was bored to the number of 'episodes' as Severus called them. Coddling her had helped nothing. She insisted on making her own way, studying with Vector to become an expert in Arithmancy and Numerology. She worked from their rooms at Hogwarts and now out of their home as a consultant for Wizarding businesses, and made good money. More than Severus made as a teacher even. She still had relapses, though over the years they had decreased in both number and severity. As long as she kept busy and had her friends to surround her, familiar things and people, then she was usually okay.

Today had been a good day. Good in that she remembered him and their last fifteen years together at least. Otherwise, she had been cranky and ill-tempered, struggling with a hard equation. She had joined him in the garden, hoping the distraction would help her overcome her mental block, but it had just resulted in making her angrier.

"_You're doing it all wrong," he told her, trying hard to sound more like a concerned husband and less like Professor Snape. Apparently, he failed because she looked up at him and frowned._

"_Like this." He motioned with his hand the proper way to trim the Devil's Snare. It could be a dangerous plant and he wouldn't even keep in the garden except that it was a key ingredient in several of the potions he made on a regular basis._

"_Just because it's not your way of doing things, doesn't mean it is the wrong way," she snapped. _

"_Fine, but don't say I didn't tell you so when you get yourself into trouble," he said with a sneer, turning back to own work. _

_Thud! He suddenly felt something hit him on the back of the head. She had thrown a clod of dirt at him. He wheeled around, brandishing his wand._

"_You're going to regret that," he threatened._

"_You would hex your own wife?" she asked petulantly._

"_If she continues to throw things at me, she will leave me no choice."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about. It must have been the wind," she said with an innocent smile. _

_The wind indeed, he thought as he turned back to his small plot of land. She was going to get herself in trouble and he knew, just knew, she would expect him to get her out of it._

_Fifteen minutes later, he heard a strangled cry. Turning around, he saw Hermione hanging upside down from the Devil's Snare, its vines creeping around her middle, tying her more effectively to its trunk. He took his time walking over to her, letting his gaze start at her feet and end down at her head._

"_Don't just stand there, help me!" she cried._

"_I don't believe I heard the magic word." He couldn't help but have some fun. Especially after she had thrown dirt at him. She deserved a little teasing._

"_Greasy bastard!"_

"That_ is definitely not the magic word," he said with a smirk._

"_You're enjoying this," she accused. He was glad that looks couldn't kill the way she was glaring at him._

"_Why yes I am. I believe I to—"_

"_Yes, yes you told me so. You are a genius in Herbology and I should stick to Arithmancy. Now will you let me down?" She struggled against the vines, which only served to make them wound round her tighter._

"_You didn't say please."_

_She clenched her eyes shut and murmured a barely audible please. With a wave of his wand, he cut the vines. He was even nice enough to levitate her before she hit her head on the hard ground. _

"_Thank you," she muttered, finally turned upright. Dusting off her robes, she stormed past him back into the house._

"_You're welcome," he said to an empty garden. Her temper could almost be as bad as his, and he knew she was stuck on a Arithmancy problem. A business projection for a large company, her reputation was riding on this, and joining him in the garden had meant to relax her. But he knew she would twist this into his fault somehow. Better to give her some space than try to follow her in. _

His lips quirked upward in half-smile, despite himself. He had learned to be thankful even for their arguments. It meant she knew who he was and was comfortable enough with him to fight. Besides, the image of her hanging upside down, her robes falling into her face was amusing too.

A white and gray haired ball of fur jumped into his lap, interrupting his thoughts. He pet it reluctantly twice on the head, then shooed it away. Secretly, Severus had been quite happy to see Crookshanks pass away. But, to his dismay, he had been replaced with another wayward bundle of fur. This one didn't even have the redeeming benefit of being half-Kneazle. It was dumb as a rock and demanded more attention than the Boy-Who-Lived himself. And it shed everywhere. His black robes weren't half as intimidating covered in cat hair.

It wound between his legs, and he resisted the urge to kick it, knowing Hermione would be angry if she caught him at it. Instead, he picked up his book to read. He had only made it ten pages in when Hermione padded down the stairs, trying to shrug on her dressing robe and rub at her sleep laden eyes at the same time. He could see a smear of dirt on the underside of her chin that she had missed when she washed up. He wondered if she was still angry with him.

"Everything all right?" he asked, peering over his reading glasses. She had gone up to bed only two hours ago.

"I had a nightmare," she answered meekly, looking around the room in confusion. He could tell that she didn't know where she was. The question was did she remember who he was?

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, patting the cushion next to him in invitation. He took off his glasses. He hated wearing them anyway, and only did when there was no one around to see him. It was basically an admission of old age creeping up on him.

"There were men in masks and a man with red eyes," she said with a shiver. "I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep."

"Do you want a Sleeping Potion?" He wrapped an arm around her.

She shook her head, sidling closer.

"Shall I read to you?" He knew she liked the sound of his voice, and he was reading a book on Arithmancy, her area of expertise. The book was actually hers, but he had picked it up in hopes it would lull him to sleep. His insomnia had been wretched recently.

"No, thank you," she said,

"Well, I'm not singing you a lullaby," he snapped.

"Even if I asked nicely?" she pouted. He scowled in response, but it softened as she leaned in and kissed his jaw. She reached over and closed the book, setting it on the side table. Her arm purposefully brushed against him as she came back to sitting.

"I was reading that," he grumbled. It wouldn't do to give in too easily.

"By all means, don't let me stop you," she said, starting to rise from the couch.

"Come back here."

He caught her arm and dragged her back down, closer this time. She crawled into his lap, her legs straddling him. Cold hands crept under the soft velvet of his dressing gown. She kissed him full on the mouth, her tongue venturing out to meet his own. His own hands slid up her thighs.

"This will help you sleep?" he asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm not particularly worried about sleep at the moment."

Severus smiled. Reaching the silky fabric of her nightdress, he grasped it and tugged upwards in one fluid motion.

She flashed him a wide grin as his eyes traveled over the familiar curves before him. The small round breasts, the jagged scar across her soft stomach, hips that flared out, skinny arms with bony elbows. She would always be beautiful to him.

"But it will help me forget about my nightmare," she said.

"It always helps with mine," he agreed, and it was true. For the last twenty-two years, she had helped stave off the nightmares—of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, of Moody and almost losing her.

Pressing her chest against his, she nipped at his neck. Her hands roamed over his chest as her hot mouth made trails along his collarbone and up his neck to that spot under his ear. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She wiggled even closer, the exquisite pressure building in his lower abdomen growing ever stronger.

"Husband," she sighed into his ear.

"Severus."

"Hmmm?" He pushed her back, gripping her upper arms and looking intently into her eyes.

"My name is Severus," he reminded her.

"Severus," she sighed. Her hot breath tickled his neck. It was almost enough to make him forget the matter and carry on. But he didn't want sex with a stranger. He wanted to make love to his wife.

"And what is your name?" he asked impatiently.

"Hermione," she said, sounding irritated. "I remember our names, though you might explain why we're here and not at Hogwarts."

He frowned at that. He hadn't meant to distract her, just remind her of who they were and why they were doing what they were doing. Severus moved his hands restlessly up and down her thighs, his fingers brushing closer and closer to her center in an attempt to remind her what they had been progressing towards just moments before.

"We live here now. I retired."

"And me?"

"You work as an Arithmancy consultant," he answered, leaning in and kissing her on the jaw. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access—a good sign that things might continue. He worked his way down her the curve of her throat and across her collarbone, dipping his tongue into the small crevice there. One hand sneaked up to massage her breast.

"So I support you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Consider it compensation for keeping you out of trouble," he growled, biting her shoulder gently. She squeaked, half in surprise the other half with laughter. But then she reached down and stilled his hand, bringing his chin up to face her. He stilled at the serious glint in her eye.

"I love you," she declared—without doubt, without hesitation. Boldly and bravely like the Gryffindor she was. Despite it all.

"I love you too." And he did—without reservation.

She answered by twining her hands in his hair and kissing him with a fierce passion so that he thought he might drown. It wasn't too much longer later that her hands found her way down, helping him out of his cotton pajama pants with a frantic air.

Finally together, she moved in a figure eight, his hands at her hips to guide her motions. Reassuring that she did indeed remember his name, she repeated it like a whispered prayer until, with one last supplication, she came. At the sound of it, the flame that had started in his groin flared up and out, lighting every vein in his body on fire. His toes curled in on themselves as he gripped her waist tightly.

She rested her head on his shoulder as they both struggled to regain their breath. She moved to get up, but he stopped her.

"Don't go."

"I'm cold," she complained. And with good reason. The fire had died down and there was a chill in the air on this cool spring night. He reached over and pulled the blanket folded over the back of the couch, wrapping it around the both of them.

"Think you could sleep now?" he asked, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I'll be fine as long as I have you," she answered. He kissed her on the mouth. He would never tire of hearing her say such things.

"Well don't expect me to carry you up to bed. If anything, you should be carrying me," he said sharply, pulling away. He was afraid he might start sounding too soft.

"Not after today in the garden," she retorted.

"So you remember now?"

"It's coming back to me," she said, trying hard not to smile while she glared at him. She never could stay angry with him for long. He was happy that she hadn't needed her potion this time. Sometimes she just needed some time for the memories to come back. Although after the stressful day she had had today, he was surprised that she had recovered so quickly.

"I forgive you," he said with a smirk.

"You forgive me?"

"For not listening to me and then being grumpy. I did warn you," he reminded her.

"Let's not talk about it," she said, wrinkling her nose and reaching for her nightgown. He didn't bother getting dressed himself, but stood up and offered her his hand. Leading her upstairs to the bed, he gave an exasperated sigh as she wound her arms around him. But secretly he would have it no other way, and he knew that she knew it.

"Bleeding barnacle," he whispered before kissing her temple.

"Greasy git," she responded with a yawn.

"I love you," he said. not sure if she was still awake.

"Love you too," she mumbled sleepily.

He lay awake for a long time, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing, his thoughts visiting the last twenty-two years they had been together. Some of which she remembered and some she did not. They weren't all good memories that was for sure. But she made his life worth the living. And in the end, the good ones far outnumbered the bad.


End file.
